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COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT. 



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Art of 3mi h^ree&Me. 




Margaret E. Sangster. 



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" We pass this way but once/' 

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PUBLISHED BY 

THE CHRISTIAN HERALD. 

Louis Klopsch, Proprietor, 

BIBLE HOUSE, NEW YORK. 










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Copyright 1897 
By LOUIS KLOPSCH. 




THIS BOOK IS DEDICATED, 

WITH THE LOVE OF MANY SWEET YEARS, 

TO 

SUSAN PORTER DU BOIS. 



CONTENTS. 



PAGE 

The Art of Being Agreeable 7 

Manners on Life's Journey . . 13 

Regard for the Rights of Others 22 

Even-Tempered Wives y] 

Sunshiny Husbands. 49 

Parents and Children 58 

Over-Sensitive People 71 

The Child's Point of View 82 

The Social Relations of Boys and Girls 93 

The Daughter at Home , . . . 97 

When we go Visiting 108 

In Co-Operative Housekeeping 118 

When Fortune Favors . 127 

When Times are Hard .... 1 36 

Hopefulness 145 

Interesting People 152 

Agreeable in Illness 160 

Agreeable in Old Age 170 

The Givers of Advice 181 

Men, Women and Society 186 

Grown-Up Sons and Daughters 195 

Tact 204 

Purity of Speech , 211 

Deference to the Old 218 

5 



6 Contents. 

PAgE 

A Talk about Clothes 227 

Out of the Procession 236 

The Good Listener 239 

Teachers and Scholars 245 

Rest when You are Tired 254 

The Money Bag 27 1 

Correspondence 277 

Some Charming Examples , 287 

The Very Best 301 

Fine Manners 306 



THE 

ART OF BEING AGREEABLE. 



THE ART OF BEING AGREEABLE. 

Into the minutest details of our daily life,, 
into our hours of prosperity and adversity 
alike, in seasons of calm weather, and in 
hours of storm and stress, enters the need of 
holding one's self well in hand, of control- 
ling circumstances, in short, of being agree- 
able. Just as the price of excellence in, 
other departments is vigilance, study, and 
incessant endeavor, so in this finest of arts 
he or she who would be eminent, must make 
the matter a subject of conscientious effort. 
As at West Point or Annapolis, the cadet is 
drilled and drilled and drilled, till he emerges, 
after the specified period of laborious train- 
ing, a model of deportment, and a man of 
various resources ; so in our homes, our 
offices, our shops, and our farms and facto- 
ries and streets, we must day by day submit 
to repression here, and practice expression 
there, if we would fully master the art of 
being agreeable. To be this signifies to be 

(7) 



8 The Art of Being Agreeable, 

pleasing, to be polite, to accept another's 
point of view, to regard another's limita- 
tions, to live on the whole, according to 
the Sermon on the Mount. 

Wherever people are gathered in large 
numbers, as at a college, for instruction ; in a 
great house of business, where many are 
employed, and the fidelity of each accrues 
to the advantage of all ; in a church, where 
the members have a common interest ; in 
any organization in which the individual 
must subordinate himself for the benefit of the 
entire body, — there it is necessary that the art 
of being agreeable should flourish. For, as 
one screw loose may serve to sink a ship, and 
one loose plank in the foundation may cause 
the mill to totter and fall, so one cantanker- 
ous, unreasonable, ill-conditioned and disa- 
greeable person may effectually demoralize 
the entire band. Nothing works more un- 
failingly than the leaven of evil, and a little 
leaven leaveneth the whole lump. 

In the closer quarters of the family, where 
we are interdependent and the temper of 
one may make the prevailing atmosphere of 
the household joyous or sad for days to- 
gether, it is still more incumbent on us to 
cultivate amiable dispositions and habit- 
ual unselfishness. The essence of being 
agreeable is being like our Master, of whom it 
is written that, " He pleased not Himself." 

Ian Maclaren tells us, in the "Mind of the 
Master," that "Love is the destruction of 



The Art of Being Agreeable, 9 

sin," because love connects instead of isolat- 
ing. No one can be envious, avaricious, 
hard-hearted, no one can be gross, sensual, 
unclean, if he loves. Love is the death of 
all bitter and unholy moods of the soul, be- 
cause love lifts the man out of himself and 
teaches him to live in another. Jesus did 
not think it needful to eulogize the virtues ; 
it would have been a work of supereroga- 
tion when he had insisted upon love. Jesus 
has changed ethics from a crystal that can 
only grow by accretion into a living plant 
that flowers in its season. He exposed the 
negative principle of morals in His empty 
house, swept and garnished ; He vindicated 
the positive principle in His house held by 
a strong man armed. 

The individualism of selfishness is the 
disintegrating force which has cursed this 
world, segregating the individual, and rend- 
ing society to pieces. The altruism of love 
is the consolidating force which will save 
the world, reconciling man to his fellows, 
and recreating society. 

We are constantly impressed in our study 
of the life of Christ when He wore our flesh 
and dwelt among us, with the importance 
He attached to love. Over and over again 
we are told to love one another. The New 
Testament is fragrant with the perfume of 
this broken alabaster box ; we are com- 
manded to a blessed altruism which prefers 
the neighbor to ones self. St. Paul says, 



10 The Art of Being Agreeable. 

"Love suffereth long and is kind, love 
vaunteth not itself, love thinketh no evil." 
" Love is the fulfilling of the law.''' St. John, 
pleads with us tenderly. "Little children, 
love one another, for love is of God. " Away 
back, centuries before Christ came to the 
earth, we find Isaiah writing sentences 
steeped with tenderest love, language labor- 
ing to show how the Father looks upon us 
in infinite fondness and with continual 
complacency, pitying and forgiving our 
sins, blotting them out, making us, though 
red like crimson, whiter than snow, and 
crowning everything by those immortal 
words, " I have called thee by thy name ; 
thou art mine." 

Does it seem like a descent from that 
which is holy to that which is common, 
when, in the same breath, with the love of 
God, we speak of being agreeable ? Not so ; 
for to be agreeable is to sacrifice selfish in- 
clination, to crucify exclusiveness, to be 
neither brutal nor brusque, but to make this 
one little life which is given us to live in, 
this sphere of service, as perfect and as 
beautiful as we can. 

" We may not climb the Heavenly steeps 
To bring the Lord Christ down ; 
In vain we search the lowest deeps, 
For Him no depths can drown. 

u But warm, sweet, tender, even yet 
A present help is He ; 
And faith has still its Olivet, 
And love its Galilee. 



The Art of Being Agreeable. n 

" The healing of His seamless dress 
Is by our beds of pain ; 
We touch Him in life's storm and stress, 
And we are whole again. 

" O Lord and Master of us all ! 
Whate'er Thy name or sign, 
We own Thy sway, we hear Thy call, 
We test our lives by Thine." 

All this of necessity puts the art of being 
agreeable on a lofty plane. When we shall 
have reached this, the world will be a very 
different place. 

To a fair woman, who had gone to live 
in one of the crowded and gloomy tenement- 
house districts of the East Side in New York 
city, a girl, accustomed her life long to hard 
knocks and much unkindness, said, "Do 
you mean to tell me that you won't gain 
anything by coming down here? Isn't there 
any money in it for you and your friends ? " 

Assured that money was the last thing 
thought of, she said musingly, " It's the first 
time I ever found folks just kind and nice 
with nothing back of it, and I believe in 
them, they are so good/' When we can put 
the art of being agreeable to such uses as 
this, we are indeed taking into the temples 
our vessels of silver and vessels of gold, 
and burning before God our sweet-smelling 
incense. 

You know how an unused house wears 
out and falls to decay, — roof and walls 
and weatherboards and shingles growing 



12 The Art of Being Agreeable, 

rotten in the damp, and falling to pieces; nails 
loosening, rain and snow driving in before 
long. A lived-in house, with a large family 
treading its stairs and passages, is not so 
soon a prey to the ravages of time. 

So, too, the rich garment of silk or wool or 
fur, left unworn in the closet or wardrobe 
wears out ; the moths eat it, the rich surface 
is fretted by time. 

In like manner, we must use our good- 
breeding and keep our politeness in repair. 
As we live among our friends and kindred, 
as we have commerce with all sorts and 
conditions of men, we shall cultivate the art 
of being agreeable, always bearing in mind 
that " Love is the fulfilling of the law," and 
that " we pass this way but once." 

" Abou Ben Adhem, may his tribe increase, 
Awoke one night from a deep dream of peace," 

and saw, you recollect, an angel writing 
with a golden pen, the names of those who 
loved the Lord. 

"And is mine one? " he asked. "Nay," 
said the angel. "I pray thee then," said 
Adhem, "write me as one who loves his 
fellow-men." 

When next the angel came, we know the 
sequel, for 

" Lo ! Ben Adhem's name led all the rest/' 



Manners on Life's Journey. 13 



MANNERS ON LIFE'S JOURNEY. 

Perhaps people reveal their dispositions 
and characters more unconsciously when 
they are travelling than at any other time. 
When we are among our own people, and 
where everybody knows us, we are more or 
less under a certain restraint ; but away from 
home and in a crowd of strangers with un- 
familiar faces on every hand, the temptation 
to be less courteous than ordinarily some- 
times assails the most amiable. 

When we see people pushing roughly in a 
crowd to get the foremost place, or insisting 
in a railway train on opening a window or 
closing it, oblivious to the comfort of those 
around, then we do not need to go far to label 
these characters as at least very selfish. 

Not long ago I saw an elderly woman ob- 
struct a throng of people anxious to get 
home after a busy day, by handing the man 
at a ticket-desk a five-dollar bill. Out of this 
five-dollar bill were to be taken two little 
tickets worth five cents. She counted her 
change deliberately twice, while a long 
string of men and women eagerly waited 
their turn, and could not get it because she 
maintained her ground with perfect com- 



14 The Art of Being Agreeable. 

posure. This was on her part a great 
breach of good manners on the road. 

In the very small matter of always pro- 
viding ones self with small change, so that 
on ferries and cars and elsewhere one shall 
occasion no delay, there is room for im- 
provement in many. A sweet girl said the 
other day, " I always take pains to have 
nickels and dimes with me, because I fancy 
that conductors have a great deal to worry 
them, and I do not like to add to the incon- 
veniences of their lot." This young woman 
obliged not only the conductors, but her 
fellow-passengers and all with whom she 
came in contact by this instinct of thought- 
fulness upen the road. 

A mother travelling with small children 
and having perhaps a journey of many hours 
before her, is greatly aided by the thought- 
fulness of other passengers who do not look 
angry or disturbed if a baby happens to 
cry, who perhaps produce, as I saw a kind 
man do not long ago, a picture-book for the 
amusement of restless little boys, and who 
in many ways show that they have con- 
sideration and regard for one who has her 
hands full. 

One day this summer, while sitting En 
church at Northfield, where Mr. Moody was 
preaching, I heard him say to a young 
mother about to take her infant out of the 
building, " Madam, do not disturb yourself 
on my account I can preach louder than a 



Manners on Life's Journey, 1 5 

baby can cry, and nobody is troubled by the 
restlessness of that little child. If any lady 
or gentleman wishes to go, I am quite will- 
ing to give my permission, but I like to see 
little children with their mothers in the house 
of God." 

Perhaps one reason why mothers keep 
little children away from church so much as 
they do, is that they fear the little ones will 
disturb those around them. A good rule for 
us all would be never to allow ourselves to 
show any lack of tranquillity on account of 
the presence of children. What would the 
world be with no little children in it? It 
would seem as if suddenly clouds had come 
over the sunshine, and the birds and the 
flowers had flown and vanished away. We 
owe a good deal of our joy and gladness in 
this world to the dear little people who keep 
us in remembrance of our own childhood, 
and we never, on a journey or elsewhere, 
should manifest any dislike to their presence. 

But our manners upon the road are con- 
cerned with something more than the mere 
travelling about. How many of us take 
time to give a clear and explicit direction to 
the person who stops us to ask the way to 
an unfamiliar point ? How often do we take 
pains to show courtesy and attention to an 
entire stranger ? A friend travelling recently 
in the South told me of his surprise and de- 
light at having a man absolutely go a whole 
hour's journey out of his way, in order to 



3 6 The Art of Being Agreeable. 

show him a point of interest and a beautiful 
view. Few of us take the time to be thus 
kind and neighborly in a w r orld where, after 
all, there is nothing lovelier than the spirit 
of good neighborhood and kindness. 

It used to be the boast of all Americans 
that no woman ever had to stand in a public 
conveyance ; the moment a lady appeared 
somebody would rise and courteously press 
on her his seat. I did once hear a funny 
story of an immensely stout lady who ap- 
peared in the door of a car, and as the sight 
of her three hundred pounds blocked the 
way, one gentleman rose and said impres- 
sively, "I will be one of three to give that 
lady a seat." This story is probably fiction. 
But I have seen three rise at once to offer a 
seat to a woman whose avoirdupois gave 
her no claim on their attention. 

We all know that a change has come over 
the manners of our countrymen in this par- 
ticular, and it is no longer true that mere 
womanhood gives a claim upon the stronger 
sex for attention in this way. Let us not 
find fault. Very often the man is as tired 
and as much in need of the seat as is the 
woman ; and if the respect is still shown to 
silver hairs, and, as almost universally, to 
the woman who carries in her arms a child, 
we must not complain. 

Also a very strong point in good manners 
is that no service shall be accepted from 
anybody without a prompt expression of 



Manners on Life's Journey. iy 

thanks. To see a women sink into a seat a 
man has resigned for her without so much 
as a look of gratitude, is to feel that he is 
justified in never again denying himself for 
the sake of such ingrates as women some- 
times prove themselves to be. 

Our manners upon the road include, let 
me say here, the prompt acknowledgment 
of all the courtesies. If we receive a present, 
however trifling it may be, it is a token of 
goodwill and a proof that we have been 
remembered, and it should be at once or 
with as little delay as possible, acknowledged 
by a note of thanks or else by a very full 
verbal expression of our pleasure. We 
should never economize in thanks ; they 
may be as profuse as possible — the more so 
the better. 

It is a beautiful trait of some people to 
keep in mind the birthdays of their friends. 
They do this perhaps by a little note in a 
birthday book, or in some way their mem- 
ories are jogged at the right moment, and 
when an anniversary comes around it is 
met by a lovely souvenir from the hand of 
affection. So, too, Easter and Christmas 
come, with their pleasant opportunities of 
showing our friends how much we love 
them. 

There is nothing more delightful than to 
receive an unexpected present. A wife is 
always made very happy by a gift from 
her husband, the more so if it comes at a 



1 8 The Art of Being Agreeable. 

time when there is no particular occasion 
for it except in his love ; and between 
brothers and sisters, children and their par- 
ents, no sweeter thing in life can be found 
than the interchange of loving gifts at holi- 
day and other times. 

Flowers play an important part in the 
courtesies of life. It is always appropriate 
to give a friend a flower. They go to the 
sick room with their messages of cheer. 
You may send them to your friend who 
is in sorrow ; when no word can be said 
to comfort her, the rose or the lily comes 
into her room and lays a soft caressing 
hand upon her aching heart. 

So it is quite worth while to let the chi 1 - 
dren early begin the cultivation of flowers. 
How dearly we remember the days when 
we ourselves had little garden-beds which 
were our own and where we were allowed, 
when we pleased, to sow the seeds, pull up 
the weeds, and gather flowers for the 
father's buttonhole or the mothers plate in 
the morning. Every little child should have 
a garden of its very own, where there will 
be the utmost liberty to do precisely what it 
pleases. 

In the country the child may romp at 
will among the daisies and clover, and come 
home from rambles with hands overflowing 
with bloom ; but in the city the children 
are limited to back-yards with narrow 
flower borders around a plot of green grass. 



Manners on Life's Journey. 19 

Even here some mothers manage to have 
little gardens for the children, where they 
may cultivate pinks, verbenas, sweet peas, 
petunias, four o'clock, and those darlings of 
all children, the little pansies with their 
sweet faces. With great pride the children 
present the father with a flower for his 
buttonhole, or bring a blossom to adorn the 
breakfast-table or lay beside the mother's 
plate. Part of all the childish training should 
be to give pleasure to others, and perhaps 
there is no way in which pleasure is more 
easily given than by the bestowment of 
flowers. 

Some young ladies who started a gospel 
mission in New York last summer had their 
rooms profusely decorated on their opening 
night with peonies and wonderful roses — 
great masses of bloom from an old-fashioned 
country garden. What was their amazement 
to find that the children who poured in to 
hear their songs and share the enjoyment of 
the first evening rushed upon the flowers 
like an invading army, and in a few moments 
stripped the rooms of every single blossom 
that was there. They went out into the 
street with their arms full, and although a 
little later they learned to respect the prop- 
erty which was not theirs, their first almost 
savage onset showed how starved their lives 
had been for beauty. 

One can never go through the crowded 
streets down-town in New York carrying 



20 The Art of Being Agreeable. 

flowers without a petition on every hand 
from the children, ragged, thin and sorrow- 
ful-looking, who throng upon one's steps 
asking to please give them the flowers. So 
that as we go through life we may both 
theoretically and practically add to its 
pleasure by considering flowers not so 
much a superfluity as a necessity. Per- 
haps we can start flower missions of our 
own. 

A friend attempted once to do good to 
some poor people who had been the despair 
of every one who had tried to help them. 
The first time she went to their door it was 
slammed in her face. The second time she 
went carrying with her a beautiful rose, 
and as the door was opened and the mother 
put out her hard and sullen face it softened 
at the sight of the flower, the door was 
opened, the lady entered, and with her 
came a new era of peace and prosperity to 
that home, because she came to it as one of 
God's angels ; and from the day that she 
gained admission she was the helper and 
friend of all beneath the roof. 

In a recently published article by Professor 
Wyckoff, in one of the numbers of Scribners 
Magazine, there was an interesting account 
of how this gentleman disguised himself as 
a tramp and set out to look for work. He 
asked only work ; he refused to accept 
alms ; not even a morsel of food would he 
take unless he worked for it. He had 



Manners on Life's Journey, 2 1 

burned his ships behind him, and carried 
with him not even a cent of money. 

It is interesting and also painful to learn 
that the majority of the people to whom 
Professor Wyckoff applied treated him with 
scorn and contumely ; that suspicion and 
indifference, if not contempt, met him at 
every step ; that he had to conciliate the 
farmer's wives as well as the dogs, and that 
he found the way of an unskilled laborer 
beset w T ith a thousand needless hardships. 

Surely upon the road of life we need not 
make things harder for those whose lot is 
already a sufficiently difficult one to bear. 
Even to tramps and beggars, who are out- 
casts from home and have no roof above 
their heads, we may show Christian kind- 
ness. When the day comes that no one 
looks down upon another, and all are 
anxious for Christ's sake to help those who 
are sad, way-worn and distressed, we shall 
see a different state of things in this world 
of Gods. 



The Art of Being Agreeable 



REGARD FOR THE RIGHTS OF 
OTHERS. 

Perhaps among- the minor trials of life 
none more persistently forces itself upon our 
notice than the disregard of many good 
people for the rights of others. They give 
trouble when to do so is needless. For in- 
stance, a busy friend of mine said to me one 
day: "A great deal of my precious time 
is taken up in going after my husband and 
setting the house in order after he leaves it 
in the morning. No matter how tidy it may 
be at his return in the evening, he again 
manages to give my drawing-room, sitting- 
room and library an appearance of having 
been swept by a cyclone. One traces him all 
over the house by the things he has heed- 
lessly dropped ; and the worst of it is that the 
children imitate him and expect from me the 
same sort of attention in putting aside their 
clothing, books and papers which I willingly 
give to their father, but which I rebel against 
in their case." 

In this instance, the wife should have 
early made a stand for herself and insisted 
that her good man should, to some extent, 
respect the rules of good order and put away 
things where they belonged without waiting 



Regard for the Rights of Others. 23 

for her willing hands to serve him. A very 
sensible mother of my acquaintance always 
begins with her little people when they are 
very small and has a set of graduated hooks 
suited to their sizes so that each one. as he or 
she comes from play, may hang up coat and 
hat, while in a closet conveniently placed, 
there are special compartments for every 
child. The little ones are allowed great 
freedom in the use of their things, but each 
child must individualize its own property, 
and they are not allowed indiscriminate use 
of what belongs to one another. Under 
certain restrictions they may lend their pos- 
sessions, though lending is not encouraged, 
and they are being brought up w T ith a strict 
feeling in regard to property rights, and a 
sort of responsibility is inculcated by the 
very care which they are obliged to take of 
their garments and playthings. This care 
is especially insisted upon with reference 
to books, and each child is taught what it 
would be well for all to learn early in life, — 
real reverence for the printed page. Books 
in that home are not allowed to lie open 
when their owners leave them, nor are 
leaves recklessly turned down, nor precious 
volumes suffered to lie out of doors and be- 
come rain-soaked. When these children 
grew up they will be decidedly agreeable 
people to live with, because they will have 
learned to care for their own rights and to 
respect the rights of others. In some fami- 



24 The Art of Being Agreeable. 

lies nobody seems to possess anything-. 
Daughters rush to their mother's bureau 
drawers and seize upon her gloves, hand- 
kerchiefs, and neckwear as it suits their con- 
venience. Mother appears to be a sort of 
person on whom the children may make 
predatory excursions as often as they like. 
In consequence, she never knows upon 
what she may count if, poor lady, she is 
asked for a visit or sets out upon a round of 
calls herself. A girl whom I knew, a dear 
lovely creature to whom her friends were all 
devoted, had the one unfortunate habit of 
helping herself at will to her sister's things 
whenever she happened to fancy something 
of hers as nicer than her own. One day, 
she was taken very ill quite suddenly, and 
was for some hours in very great danger. 
As a matter of course the family anxiety 
w r as great, and just when every one was 
wrought up to concert-pitch, the sufferer 
created a diversion and assured them that 
she was getting better by exclaiming : * ' Oh, 
Mary, if I only live, I solemnly promise 
that I w T ill never take your collars and cuffs 
again ! " At that moment, the promise was 
not desired, but later, Mary did not fail to 
remind the delinquent that it had been made. 
In the interesting " True Life of George 
Washington," by Paul Leicester Ford, we 
chance upon a little incident which shows 
how a hundred years ago our great general 
was annoyed by the heedlessness of a 



Regard for the Rights of Others. 25 

young relative who was for a time a mem- 
ber of his household. Of this niece, Har- 
riot, he tells that her " chief falling- was no 
disposition. . . to be careful of her cloathes," 
which were e ' dabbed about in every hole and 
corner and her best things always in use/' 
so that Washington said, "She costs me 
enough ! " To her uncle she wrote on one 
occasion : " How shall I apologize to my 
dear and Honored for intruding on his good- 
ness so soon again, but being sensible for 
your kindness to me, which I shall ever re- 
member with the most heartfelt gratitude, in- 
duces me to make known my wants. I hav& 
not had a pair of stays since I first came here: 
if you could let me have a pair I should be 
very much obliged to you, and also a hat 
and a few other articles. I hope my dear 
Uncle will not think me extravagant for 
really I take as much care of my cloathes as 
I possibly can/' A writer in the Evening 
Post recently advises parents to be more 
careful than they usually are in the early in- 
structions to little children with regard to 
the care of property, particularly that which 
does not belong to them. The article is so 
admirable a lesson that I quote it : 

' ' To enforce upon children regard for other 
people and their property, to punish, by 
restraint or deprivation of certain pleasures, 
injuries to furniture, flowers, books, walls, 
anything which ./they ought not to handle — 
is merely to make a groundwork of decent 



26 The Art of Being Agreeable. 

regard for other people's rights. I saw two 
children, eight or ten years old, tear up the 
larger part of a bit of shrubbery just coming 
into bloom, and throw the blossoms on the 
ground, while their mothers watched them 
from the veranda in complacent quiet. 
' They were having such a good time with 
those wild flowers.' The mistress of the 
house absolutely turned pale when she saw 
the destruction ; the shrubs were coming 
into bloom for the first time. The little girls 
were not even told to gather up the litter 
they had made, but left walks and lawn un- 
tidy, and rushed off to find something else 
to tear up and destroy. 

"To learn to respect the perfection of 
things is of infinite value to a child. If it is 
a flower, to shelter and try to keep it alive, 
never wantonly to pluck and fling away a 
blossom ; if it is a book, not to deface or 
mar it ; if it is a wall, not to mark or deface 
it ; if it is a smooth-rolled lawn, not to lit- 
ter it with rubbish or deface it with wheel- 
marks. To learn to wait patiently ; all their 
lives long they will give thanks for having 
been taught how to do this. How many a 
pleasant talk has been interrupted, how 
many an otherwise helpful visit has been 
lost by a teasing, pulling child, tormenting 
its mother either to listen to its demands or 
to go somewhere. 

"The whole of its life lies in what the 
child learns of these things, and it must 



Regard for the Rights of Others. 2 J 

either grow into selfish manhood, or wo- 
manhood, or have the evil beaten out by 
the hard and bitter teachings of the world in 
which it was meant to be happy and useful, 
rather than to begin thus late to learn that 
we cannot live unto ourselves. 

"Better that the children never knew a 
word of any language but their own, that 
they were devoid of many society accom- 
plishments, than that they should fail to 
learn faithful obedience, respect for the 
rights of others, and primary self-restraint, 
which is the foundation of all pleasant inter- 
course between human beings of every age. 

"There is no reason why children should 
not be a joy wherever they go; a refresh- 
ment, even an amusement to their world- 
tired elders, to whom their innocent pleas- 
ures, their spontaneous, unaffected merri- 
ment, their original and ingenious thoughts 
are like a new and diverting book ; and surely 
to many forms of grief no tenderness is as 
soothing as the love and caress of a dear 
child. 

" If they are looked upon as pests and 
nuisances, if the nervous shrink from their 
shrill screams and continued fretfulness, the 
delicate from their rude ways, and the re- 
fined from their destructiveness, it is the 
fault of their mothers, not the children. 

1 ' Put the culture of the heart and character 
of your children far above the improvement 
of their minds. 



28 The Art of Being Agreeable. 

" It is easier to yield than to show a child 
that he cannot be indulged ; it is far easier 
to quiet a restless little spirit with a forbidden 
plaything than to insist on his amusing him- 
self legitimately ; but every day the mother 
or nurse who would grieve sincerely that 
any lack of care or forethought had entailed 
a bump or bruise, will permit him without 
regret to acquire habits which make him a 
trial w T herever he goes, and which only the 
rod of life's hard discipline can remove. 

"The subtle form of selfishness which 
causes this lamentable result hides itself 
away under many coverings, but in the end 
the finished work is the same ; the distaste- 
ful, annoying, obnoxious child owes his 
condition to his mother, and she has been 
cruel to him." 

Primarily, the blame for a careless tramp- 
ling upon the rights of others lies at the door 
of parents. If they begin with children in 
their early years they can easily train them 
into whatever habits they please. Even 
heredity, strong as it is, yields to constant, 
gentle and relentless training. None of us 
would quite approve of the method of Ma- 
dame Beck, whose continual surveillance of 
her scholars and family so horrified her En- 
glish governess in Charlotte Bronte's wonder- 
ful story Villette. But there is a quality of gen- 
uine common sense in her observation about 
one little daughter, that "This child needs 
to be very constantly watched. " We should 



Regard for the Rights of Others. 29 

not watch our children in the indirect and 
stealthy way adopted by this mother, whose 
Jesuitical training made her see no harm in 
playing the part of a spy, but mothers can- 
not be too constantly vigilant, for it is 
true that time is constantly going on, that 
the child is growing out of our hands, and 
that by and by we may ruefully say as did 
one of old : " While Thy servant was busy 
here and there, he was gone." People who 
are agreeable members of a family do not 
call attention to every little defect in the 
fit of a gown ; they do not tell you that your 
bonnet is unbecoming, that you are looking 
ill to-day or that the frock or gown which 
has just come home to you from the dress- 
maker would better suit your grandmother 
than yourself. I have sometimes found that 
the people who say such things are quite 
willing to borrow the very finery which they 
discover is not appropriate to its original 
owner. The whole matter of borrowing, 
of family criticism and of family jars, is very 
closely related. 

We cannot expect people to live in a 
home in the severe isolation of ivory balls 
laid side by side, but there is mudi friction 
which could be avoided, and a great deal of 
it comes from failure to exercise the same 
care in regard to relatives which we always 
show in our intercourse with strangers. 

From a very early period in life young 
people should practice perfect honesty, so 



30 The Art of Being Agreeable. 

far as financial transactions in the house- 
hold are concerned. If Jennie asks Arthur 
to lend her five or ten cents, or Arthur seeks 
a small accommodation of that sort from 
Kate, there should be the utmost precision 
in returning the amount as promptly as 
possible. In fact, the ease and charm of 
life everywhere are dependent upon founda- 
tion stones of integrity and honor. This 
naturally leads to a reminder that people 
should be prompt in settling small obliga- 
tions. A poor laundress said to me, not long 
ago : "I have the greatest respect for Dr. 
," — mentioning a well-known clergy- 
man. ''I used to work frequently in his 
family and I have often heard him say 
at the end of the day : ' Mamma, do not 
let Sophy go home without her money, even 
if she is coming again to-morrow. You 
know she has a house full of children to care 
for ! ' ' Entire exactness in small things leads 
to good management in larger ones. Never 
should one take liberties in any instance 
with funds intrusted to his or her care. A 
young lady said to me one day : "I am 
in the greatest perplexity and trouble. I 
am Treasurer of the Benevolent Society of 
our church, and I had last week in my care 
about $70. oc. A friend came in and begged 
me to lend him the money, saying he would 
give it back to me the next day and that it 
would be just as safe in his hands as it was 
in mine. I foolishly and weakly yielded to 



Regard for the Rights of Others. 31 

his importunities and lent him the money, 
and now there comes a request from him to 
allow him to keep it still longer, and alto- 
gether I am very much worried." The 
young lady made the mistake which we all 
make when we treat as our own that which 
really is given to us in trust. We have no 
right to lend that which does not belong to 
us. In her case, she was compelled to ask 
her father to make good the amount she 
had allowed to pass from her hands to 
those of an irresponsible person. People 
frequently forget that funds with which they 
are intrusted are in no sense their own, 
that they are simply stewards, and that as 
stewards they must render an account of 
their stewardship. In a lesser way, some 
of us need to remind ourselves that it is 
possible to be too obliging when we are 
asked to lend, just for a few days, to an in- 
sistent friend the volume which another 
friend has lent to us — a very indefensible 
piece of business on all sides. The party 
of the first part in this transaction is in the 
hands of the party of the second part, and 
she of the third part has no right nor privi- 
lege in the matter whatever. The whole 
question of borrowing books is fraught with 
interrogation points which bristle on every 
side, I do not think a really agreeable per- 
son ever voluntarily borrows a friend's book, 
unless where there is great intimacy. The 
very doing: so proves the person disagreeable; 



32 The Art of Being Agreeable. 

for, as a rule, people are not more willing, 
underneath the surface, to lend their books 
than they are to lend their shoes, or gloves 
or petticoats or mantillas or their best bon- 
nets. Few people have the courage of their 
convictions in this matter. 

Not one person in a thousand will adopt 
the course of a gentleman who, having a 
large library, told me that he had long ago 
made it a point never to lend a book from 
a set. "I do not object," said he courte- 
ously, to a neighbor who desired the loan of 
one volume from a set of sixty, " to your 
taking the entire series of works if you will 
kindly send a wheelbarrow for them, but 
I never allow a set of books to be broken." 
Those of us who have yawning gaps in our 
libraries, made by the absence of certain 
numbers in beloved editions, or whose fa- 
vorite authors have come home stained and 
worn and in evil case from the treatment 
they have received at the hands of our ac- 
quaintances, can but admire the strength of 
mind which forms and adheres to such a 
resolution. 

In most towns there are public libraries 
from which one may freely draw books, and 
in many small places there are profitable 
book clubs which allow volumes to go for a 
stated time from hand to hand and house to 
house. Thoroughly well-bred persons hesi- 
tate to ask the loan of a book even from an 
intimate friend or a kinsman : and if one ac- 



Regard for the Rights of Others. 33 

cepts such a favor, it behooves one to take 
the very greatest care of this property while 
it is with her, and to return it uninjured at 
the earliest practicable opportunity, not 
even permitting- it to pass in her family from 
hand to hand, since the loan of a book is an 
individual transaction not intended to be 
shared by a half dozen people. 

And now, having said all this, let me add 
fchat, notwithstanding it, a very lovely way 
of doing good is to keep a certain number 
of books by one for the special purpose of 
lending. One may have books which she 
knows will give great pleasure, and which 
she deliberately resolves to send about 
among her friends or among young people 
whom she knows. If she determines to do 
this and puts her inclination into practice, 
she may be a true benefactor, and there may 
be among those to whom she shows this 
kindness, some who may rise up and call 
her blessed. In a country house up the 
Hudson, there dwell two dear and honored 
old people whose children and grandchil- 
dren have gone forth from them into the 
world, and who, in a long life, have found 
much pleasure in their large library of choice 
books. One section of this library they 
have set apart for the pleasure of their 
neighbors, and any one who wishes may 
freely come at any time and procure a book, 
the only stipulation in the case being that the 
name of the volume, the date of its with- 



34 The Art of Being Agreeable. 

drawalfrom the shelf and the name of the bor- 
rower shall be entered by him or her in a little 
book which, with a pencil beside it, hangs 
conspicuously beside one of the shelves. 
The books are not enclosed by glass or 
locked up like prisoners ; the door of the 
library is always open, and no formula of ask- 
ing or of thankfulness in return is expected, 
but it is taken for granted that whoever 
shares the kindness and courtesy of these 
always considerate people, shall enter the 
names and dates punctiliously in the book. 
They are also asked on returning the vol- 
ume to set down in the book the fact that 
they have done so, and to add the date of 
the return. 

Umbrellas, for some occult reason, curi- 
ously subtle, have from time immemorial 
seemed to be common property, and many 
persons, otherwise exceedingly thoughtful, 
forget when the sun shines to return the 
umbrella which was so welcome a boon in 
the rain. Let us make a little mental note 
of this, and if we are wise we shall not be- 
have as did two young women who were 
temporary guests of a courteous matron in 
whose house they were overtaken by a sud- 
den summer tempest. In order to save 
their delicate gowns from injury, she pressed 
upon them rain cloaks and overshoes and 
fitted them up with umbrellas, and sent them 
forth to their homes thoroughly fortified 
against the tempest. The next day, with- 



Regard for the Rights of Others. 35 

out a note or a word of thanks, her property 
came back to her. The cloaks were encrust- 
ed with mud, spattered and stained up to 
the knees ; the overshoes were a sight to be- 
hold and one of the umbrellas had a broken 
rib. My friend said to me quite calmly, 
after she had spent a morning in restoring 
her property to its pristine freshness and had 
sent the umbrella away for repair : "I have 
always heard that people show their breeding 
in such little matters as this. You know as 
well as I that although these girls have had 
every advantage, their parents came from a 
very ordinary class of people in the first 
place and they have never had the fine feel- 
ing which the gentleman or the lady to the 
manor born cannot help having." There- 
flection upon the parents may have been 
unjust. I was inclined to think that only 
girlish thoughtlessness was in the case, but 
my friend, an aristocrat to her finger tips, 
has never changed her view of the matter. 

If one is a guest in a strange house, the 
obligation to keep one's own room in order 
and not to leave one's personal belongings 
lying about loosely everywhere is much 
greater than if one be in one's own home. 
It happened to a lady, who is a fastidious 
housekeeper, to entertain some time ago, a 
number of young people who had come to 
her town as delegates to a Christian Endea- 
vor Convention. It was understood that 
they were going to meetings from morning 



36 The Art of Being Agreeable. 

to night, and that they were in a strange 
place where many novelties attracted their 
attention, but that was no excuse for their 
leaving their rooms in a state of untidiness 
which was simply frightful to behold. In 
one case, a youth who had the tongue of 
an Apollos, and whose eloquent speech and 
practical administration of affairs in conven- 
tion did him great honor, managed to break 
a costly ewer, and said nothing about the 
fact that he had done so. He left towels 
and soiled and clean clothing strew T n about 
his room in wild confusion ; and a cake of 
toilet soap was found lying under the bed 
after he had gone home. "Deliver me," 
said the lady, "from ever entertaining 
such guests again." "Let not your good 
be evil spoken of," is a motto it would be 
w r ell for us all to adopt, and particularly 
when we are representing bodies of Chris- 
tian people and are away from home. Let 
us be more than fastidious in the way in 
which we treat the effects and the homes to 
which we have access. 



Even-Tempered Wives. 37 



EVEN-TEMPERED WIVES. 

From a very early period we begin to 
make the kind of people we are going- to be. 
When the little girl stamps her foot and flies 
into a fury because she cannot have just 
what she wants, she is laying the founda- 
tion for much unhappiness in future life. 
Evenness of temper is a different thing from 
evenness of manner,but the habit of repress- 
ing the hasty speech, of being careful of 
how we look and of what we say, contributes 
really to the gentle temper which makes the 
charm of life. 

I have lately been staying under the roof 
of a fair woman, around whom rises a large 
family of grown-up sons and daughters, all 
of whom adore her. In the days when her 
ten children were coming and the nest was 
always crowded, this mother was sometimes 
tired, and sometimes her courage failed. She 
had many days when she did not feel quite 
up to the mark, and sometimes it seemed as 
if she would not have strength for all that 
God meant her to do and to be. 

But to-day, as her stalwart sons and beau- 
tiful daughters crowd around the little 



38 The Art of Being Agreeable. 

mother, she is marvellously young and fair 
and sweet, and one of her children said to 
me, " I have always taken my mother as an 
example because her temper has been under 
such control and always so even ; we have 
alwa}-s known where to find her and what 
to depend upon." 

Women are subject to many little flurries 
and gusts, owing* to their peculiarly sensitive 
organization and to the fact that they are 
less able to escape from small interruptions 
than men are ; but still the control of one's 
temper is largely a matter of will, and some- 
how the mother sets the pace and makes the 
music of the home. Baby's skies are moth- 
er's eyes, and when the mother is cheerful, 
happy and considerate, the household ba- 
rometer stands at fair weather and there is 
little danger of storm or tempest under that 
roof. 

Then, too, the habit of being even-tem- 
pered and gentle under the multitudinous 
cares and thick-crowding interruptions of 
the day tend to give a woman a certain 
strength which enables her to stand up under 
the larger burdens when they come. Mr. 
Moody said to me one day last summer, 
'''Worry is the woman's sin," and I thought 
he was right. It is much harder for women 
to keep from forecasting to-morrow than it 
would be if they were not so incessantly 
occupied with the round of petty cares, and 
with drudgery which seemingly has no end. 






Eve7i-Tempered Wives. 39 

For this reason, whenever it is possible, 
the mother should take a little vacation and 
escape, so far as she can, if only for a day 
or two, from the state of circumstances 
which usually are about her, into another 
state which will give her a different outlook. 
This is precisely the thing which mothers 
find it hardest to do. They say "I cannot 
be spared; everything would go to pieces 
if I should )eave my post. " Sometimes they 
boast that for years they have not had a 
holiday. Sometimes they refuse to take 
such little outings as might be managed, 
from a mistaken sense of duty and of 
responsibility. 

But we have all seen how wonderfully a 
mother picks up health and strength and 
gets back her lost youth when she is per- 
suaded in some happy day to leave her 
cares in the hands of a sister or an older 
daughter, to put on a pretty new gown and 
go away with her husband for a visit ex- 
tending over some days or weeks. From 
the moment the mother leaves the house 
and the cars whirl her away she begins 
growing younger and a certain spring comes 
back to her life which she thought had left 
it forever. 

Children could sometimes manage better 
than they do in their mothers' interests if 
they only realized how much the mothers 
stand in need of petting, and how much 
easier it w r ould be for a mother if she could 



40 The Art of Being Agreeable. 

drop her responsibilities for a little while. 
It would be well for all of us if there were 
more demonstration in our love. Very- 
many of us are like the good deacon in ' ' Old- 
town Folks," who having once upon a time 
explained to his wife that he loved her, from 
that time on he never thought it necessary 
to allude to the fact again. 

Some of our dear deceased friends would 
be very much astonished should they come 
back and discover how deeply they are 
mourned, because certainly it never was 
made apparent to them while they were 
here that they were of very much account 
to anybody ; and yet it is more from want 
of thought that evil is wrought than from in- 
tention, and the mother should take to her- 
self the thought that she owes something to 
her own nature and to her own possibilities 
of development, as well as to her children 
and her friends. 

The fault against which wives need to 
guard is an excessive candor. They are apt 
to speak a little too plainly, and it would be 
quite as well in the interest of happiness if 
they would retain something of the defer- 
ence in their behavior which it was their joy 
to show the man of their choice during the 
courting days. Men respond very quickly 
to caresses and sentiment, and even a gray- 
haired father, or a strong man whom no one 
suspects of yearning for expressed fondness, 
is the better for having his wife put her arms 



Even-Tempered Wives. 41 

around him and tell him how much she loves 
and admires him. 

A little formality in our household inter- 
course is not a bad thing. The great dan- 
ger of intimacy — and no relation is so in- 
timate as that of the wedded life — is that 
we cease to be sufficiently on guard, Peo- 
ple are under no restraint ; they say the 
thing that comes first. Sometimes a woman, 
yielding to a little mood of depression or 
unhappiness. or to a disappointment, utters 
words which rankle in a man's memory like 
poisonous stings. Words may wound, may 
be keen-edged as a sword or blunt as a club, 
and so may leave a stab or a bruise. 

Really, when we come to think of it, most 
of our friction in this life is quite unnecessary, 
and nearly all domestic jars resolve them- 
selves into much ado about nothing. Look- 
ing back over the quarrel which was so 
petty, yet which hurt at the time, we say 
how wise it would have been to have kept 
silent ; how much unhappiness would have 
been saved had the matter simply been al- 
lowed to drift by without notice. 

Solomon, who had great experience with 
women, seems to have had an especial ter- 
ror of one with a sharp tongue, for he says, 
"It is better to live in a corner of the house- 
top than with a brawling woman in a wide 
house. " 

I once heard a very sweet bit of counsel 
given to one who was apt to let herself be 



42 The Art of Being Agreeable. 

easily perturbed. The person to whom she 
spoke said, "My dear, whenever you feel 
agitated and out of sorts and ready to give 
way to ill-temper, say to yourself, very 
quietly and tranquilly 'The Lord is in His 
holy temple ; let all the earth keep silence be- 
fore Him.' A little thought will show the 
meaning of this, which is simply that we 
all, if we are believers in the love of the 
Heavenly Father and in the indwelling of 
the Redeemer, are temples in which the 
Lord may make his abode. If we have 
asked him to dwell in us and to shine out of 
us, it is certainly very unfit and unbecom- 
ing that we should be at the mercy of every 
little mood. Those who walk with Christ 
consciously always walk serenely. 

In order to be entirely agreeable and even- 
tempered, we women must not attempt to 
do too much in one day. There are little 
frocks to be made for the sweet little daugh- 
ter of the house, and the temptation is to 
add frill to frill and puff to puff and flounce 
to flounce until the modest little slip which 
w T ould have fitted the child perfectly is an 
elaborate creation which might have come 
from a Paris dressmaker. The mother sits 
down at her machine in the morning and 
sews all day long, until she sews a stitch into 
her back and a pain in her side and an ache 
into her temples — until she is all demoral- 
ized and feels ready to fly. 

A good rule for the even-tempered wife is 



Even-Tempered Wives. 43 

not to attempt too much. A lady writing- in 
Harpers Bazar not long ago, on "Temper 
or Nerves/' gave an example of the way in 
which the mother loses control of herself. 
Her little story began thus : 

' ' I wonder where temper ends and nerves 
begin ? " said a weary mother whom I was 
visiting. She had just accused herself of be- 
ing cross. I said she was nervous. Which 
was it ? 

"I am tired and intolerably cross,'' she 
insisted. "My temper is horrid, and yet I 
do try to control it. What is it ? " as a knock 
came at the door. 

"It's me, ma'am," and Bridget's red face 
appeared in the entrance. "Was it pease or 
beans you said you wanted for lunch ? " 

" Pease, Bridget. I ordered them from 
the grocer." 

"Yes, ma'am. And when you was order- 
in' I forgot to say as there wasn't a taste of 
butter in the house." 

"Oh, Bridget ! and now the man has gone 
with the order. I asked you particularly if 
you had everything for the day." 

"Sure an' I forgot butter ! Oh, yes. and 
there ain't no salad-oil, and you'll want it 
with the lettuce at lunch." 

The mistress said nothing for a moment, 
and then spoke with deadly calm : 

"Since you forgot those things you will 
have to go to the grocer's to get them. But 
hurry, for you know this is a busy day." 



44 The Art of Being Agreeable. 

"All right," sullenly. 

As the sound of the heavy footsteps died 
on the stairs, the door of my hostess's room 
burst open and the ten-year-old son of the 
house rushed in. 

" Mamma, where s my geography? " 

"Just where you left it, my son." 

"But I've forgotten, mamma! Oh dear, 
just see that clock ! Five minutes to nine ! " 

"And you are ten minutes from school ! 
My boy, why are you so careless ? Look in 
the nursery for your book. " 

A scamper across the hall and then a tri- 
umphant shout from the nursery : 

" Mamma, I've found it ! Did I leave my 
hat in your room ? " 

"No, Harry." 

"Where is it?" 

"I don't know. You must find it, dear." 

A deadly silence, during which I saw that 
the mother held herself still by main force. 
The hand with which she sewed quivered, 
the fingers closed tightly on the needle. 

Then the clock struck nine. 

"Mamma," wailed the boy, "it is nine 
o'clock, and I cant find my hat ! What shall 
I do ? " 

And then the thread with which the mother 
sewed snapped, and something else — was it 
temper or nerves ? — snapped too. Throwing 
down her work and springing from her chair 
she ran into the nursery, where, in the middle 
of the floor, she found the child's hat. 



Even-Tempered Wives. 45 

Putting it on his head and thrusting his 
books into his hand, she pushed him to the 
stair-head. 

"You drive me wild by your heedless- 
ness!" she exclaimed excitedly. "If you 
forget another thing to-day, I'll whip you ! " 

Then she returned to her room, sank into 
a chair, and buried her face in her hands. 

"Oh, my wicked, wicked temper!" she 
moaned. ' ' Women excuse this kind of thing 
as nervousness. I say it is temper, uncon- 
trollable and sinful ! And I am ashamed 
through and through !" 

Which was it ? And what is that with 
which many of us women fight daily as with 
an enemy to health and happiness ? Shall 
we call it nervous irritability, or irritable nerv- 
ousness ? 

Is it temper or nerves ? 

Just for example's sake we will suppose 
that that little boy on his way to school 
should be run over by a trolley car, or should 
meet with some sudden accident, or that 
that night he should be taken ill and go 
down to the door of death. How the mo- 
ther would then reproach herself for the lack 
of patience she had shown ! 

In the light of Eternity many things will 
seem to us very trivial which now appear all 
important, and it will appear very strange 
to us that we could have allowed in our- 
selves such variations of mood w r hen all that 
was needed was to hold closely and firmly 



46 The Art of Being Agreeable. 

the hand of Him who says, "As thy days 
thy strength shall be." 



OUR OWN. 

If I had known in the morning 
How wearily all the day 

The words unkind 

Would trouble my mind 
I said when you went away, 
I had been more careful, darling, 
Nor given you needless pain; 

But we vex "our own" 

With look and tone 
We might never take back again. 

For though in the quiet evening 
You may give me the kiss of peace, 
Yet well it might be 
That never for me 
The pain of the heart should cease. 
How many go forth in the morning 
Who never come home at night; 
And hearts have broken 
For harsh words spoken 
That sorrow can ne'er set right. 

We have careful thought for the stranger, 
And smiles for the sometime guest, 

But oft for " our own " 

The bitter tone, 
Though we love our own the best. 
Ah ! lip with the curve impatient, 
Ah ! brow with that look of scorn, 

'Twere a cruel fate 

Were the night too late 
To undo the work of the morn. 

To an English clergyman we are indebted 



Even-Tempered Wives. 47 

for the following admirable set of rules, for 
everyday guidance. 

1. Learn to govern yourselves, and to be 
gentle and patient. 

2. Guard your tempers, especially in sea- 
sons of ill-health, irritation, and trouble, 
and soften them by prayers and a sense of 
your own shortcomings and errors. 

3. Never speak or act in anger until you 
have prayed over your words or acts, and 
concluded that Christ would have done so 
in your place. 

4. Remember that, valuable as is the gift 
of speech, silence is often more valuable. 

5. Do not expect too much from others, 
but forbear and forgive, as you desire for- 
bearance and forgiveness yourself. 

6. Never retort a sharp or angry w r ord. 
It is the second word that makes the quar- 
rel. 

7. Beware of the first disagreement. 

8. Learn to speak in a gentle tone of 
voice. 

9. Learn to say kind and pleasant things 
whenever opportunity offers. 

10. Study the character of each and sym- 
pathize with all in their troubles, however 
small. 

11. Do not neglect little things if they can 
affect the comfort of others in the smallest 
degree. 

12. Avoid moods and pets and fits of 
sulkiness. 



48 The Art of Being Agreeable. 

13. Learn to deny yourself and prefer 
others. 

14. Beware of meddlers and tale-bearers. 

15. Never charge a bad motive if a good 
one is conceivable. 

16. Be gentle and firm with children. 



Sunshiny Husbands. 49 



SUNSHINY HUSBANDS. 

From time immemorial it has been en- 
joined upon wives to be bright and cheerful 
in all circumstances. They are told that 
whether things have gone pleasantly or the 
opposite in the household, whether they are 
tired or not, no matter what burdens may 
be put upon them, it is imperative that they 
shall always speed their husbands away in 
the morning with a cheerful face and meet 
them on their return from business with a 
bright smile and a pleasant word. 

It seems to me that the duty of cheerful- 
ness is quite as obligatory upon husbands 
as upon wives, and that equally with women 
men should rise above the petty trials and 
irritations of the day and speak with agree- 
able consideration for others, lightening 
the loads of life by the merry jest and the 
happy manner. Under the great stress of 
calamity human nature girds itself to bear 
whatever comes with fortitude. None of 
us is inadequate to meeting with fortitude 
great disasters which sweep from us much 
that has made life beautiful and dear, but 
in the little vexations and disappointments 
of every day we sometimes fall short of our 
ideals. 
4 



The Art of Being Agreeable. 



The man who goes to business, to the 
office., the shop, or the desk in the counting- 
room, has the advantage over his wife that 
he leaves his home behind him, enters upon 
clearly defined duties for the day, in which 
he is not liable to very much interruption, 
and when night comes he simply turns the 
key in his desk and goes home to find a 
bright fire, children glad to see him, and a 
supper table spread for his return. Through 
the day he has been meeting people in a 
business way, and he has perhaps had busi- 
ness anxieties to bear, but only one set of 
his faculties have been engaged and he may, 
as it were, side-track the whole of that part 
of his mind which has been occupied with 
the worries of business, leave all cares be- 
hind him, and go home to something fresh 
and pleasant. 

His wife, on the contrary, has had a thou- 
sand little things to try her all day. Should 
the average man change places for one week 
with his wife, engage in the multiform occu- 
pations which distract her — the mending, the 
making, the contriving, the caring for babies, 
tying up cut fingers, binding up burns and 
bruises, conciliating Bridget or doing with- 
out Bridget altogether, preparing three meals 
a day and clearing away the dishes when 
they are over — he would realize the truth of 
the old adage, 

" Man works from sun to sun. 
But woman's work is never done," 



Suns] Uny Husbands, 51 

and he would understand far better than it 
is possible to show him that the constant 
iteration, the drop by drop, inch by inch 
of woman's work in the house is what wears 
her out. 

I have seldom met a man who realized 
that there was any need for the annual 
house-cleaning which women know to be 
imperative. A man invariably says, "Why 
do you wish to stir things up ; everything 
always looks clean. So it does to his inex- 
perienced eyes. In fact, he never is there 
when the furniture is pulled out of its place, 
the carpet swept, and the administration of 
broom and dusting-cloth and scrubbing-brush 
are going on ; he goes away in the morning 
before the work begins and comes back 
when it is finished. In a sense this is some- 
what different in the case of a farmer, whose 
work lying often nearer his home enables 
him to come in now and then through the 
day. And yet in the case of a farmer's wife 
the work is more strenuous than that re- 
quired of any other woman in the same 
station of life. She has, as a rule, fewer 
things to do with, fewer labor-saving appli- 
ances, and very often there are seasons of 
the year when work presses in the fields and 
her family is increased by the necessity of 
boarding and lodging hired helpers of her 
husband when it often happens that she can 
get no domestics to assist her. The work 
falls very heavily on farmers' wives and 



52 The Art of Being Agreeable. 

daughters, and their bowed shoulders and 
weary looks tell the tale of life's burdens. 

It is the greatest boon to a wife in any 
station when her husband has the habit of 
cheerfulness. When you see the children 
rushing with glad faces and merry shouts to 
welcome father's return at night, when the 
wife puts aside all her little worries, saying 
"When John comes home I will tell him 
everything," then you see one of the most 
beautiful sights on earth — a man cheerily 
bearing burdens. 

Nothing is quite so sweet in this world as 
the tenderness of a strong man. Sometimes 
when we were travelling we have seen a big, 
gentle, kind man rise from his seat and take 
a fretful baby from the mother's arms, and 
very soon the little crying creature, rested 
and hushed, lays its little head against his 
broad breast and goes quietly asleep in those 
protecting arms. 

A man who is loving, tender, and cheery 
is almost as good in this weary world as an 
angel from heaven. A lady once said to me: 

' ' My sister and I are very differently placed 
in life, though we both have excellent hus- 
bands. Max, her husband, is of a very 
nervous temperament and of what we might 
call a difficult disposition to get on with, al- 
though he is a most honorable and excellent 
man. But Frances becomes perfectly worn 
out in the effort to have everything just as it 
always ought to be. The children are taught 



Sunshiny Husbands. 53 

that they must behave well in the presence 
of their father. No matter what goes wrong 
Fanny carefully keeps it from Max, and we 
are all afraid now that she is on the brink 
of nervous prostration herself ; she has had 
so many small worries with nobody in the 
world to give her a lift in bearing them. 

"With me the case is entirely different ; I 
fly to Jack with everything. The moment 
he comes into the house he brings in a great 
burst of sunshine. If one of the children is 
ill, it is he who takes the entire charge. If I 
am going away on a journey it is he who al- 
ways packs my trunk. In fact, since fhe day 
I was married I have never had a single thing 
to do or to bear which my darling Jack could 
save me." 

We cannot expect that every man will be 
able to emulate the example of Jack, but 
there is a measure of loving cheerfulness in 
the power of all men, and they can make 
their homes and their lives very beautiful 
if they will only put it into practice. I re- 
member once to have read a story by Rose 
Terry Cooke about a certain New England 
farmer who was what the people in his 
neighborhood called a street angel ; that is, 
he was charming to every one he met out- 
side his own front door, but when he came 
home he made up for this by being distress- 
ingly fault-finding to everybody within it. 

There is one point on which husbands 
need to be very guarded and that is in the 



54 The Art of Being Agreeable. 

matter of fault-finding at the table. In fact, 
there are three kinds of fault-finding which I 
advise men of all ages to exorcise from their 
lives as they would demons of destruction. 
Never, dear John or Will, wherever you may 
be, quote your mother's housekeeping at 
your wife, never say "My mother always 
did this or that/' in a manner which reflects 
discredit on your w T ife, the probabilities be- 
ing that your wife's housekeeping is quite up 
to the mark, and that it is only the glamour 
of memory which casts so fair a sheen over 
that of your mother. 

Never, as you value domestic peace, 
mention anything to the disadvantage of the 
carving-knife. I take it as a test of the most 
thorough good breeding and amiability 
when I never hear a man say "It passes 
comprehension that our carving-knife is 
always so dull. What in the world do you 
do with it ? Is it used to cut the bread, or to 
hack the soles off the children's shoes? I 
am sure if this carving-knife were kept in 
the right way and used only on the table 
there would be nothing the matter with it." 
The demon of perversity which lurks around 
carving-knives has a fearful effect on the 
tempers of the most lovely and ordinarily 
urbane men. 

Also do not find fault with the food itself. 
It is quite as much to your wife's interest to 
have her table nicely appointed and her food 
well cooked as it is to yours, and should 



Sunshiny Husbands. 55 

an accident ever happen and something be 
heavy which ought to be light, or burned 
which should have been underdone, she is 
as grieved and sorry and ashamed in the 
matter as you can possibly be. 

I was once a guest for some time in the 
home of one of the truest gentlemen I have 
ever known. One day there came upon the 
table a roast which was fabulously tough. 
The wife, who was the caterer and pur- 
veyor, as wives usually are, felt very much 
distressed, but her husband said, ' l Why, 
Maggie, you are not responsible for this, 
you did the very best you could ; no one 
could have done any better. And in this 
town we are so dependent on the boats which 
bring us supplies and it is so hard to market 
that I am constantly astonished that our 
table is so beautifully kept. " That was the 
way in which to meet such a contretemps. 

No right-minded or sunshiny husband will 
ever find fault with anything which goes on 
underneath his roof if he can help it. If his 
buttons happen to be off he will realize that 
the omission was not intentional, and in 
every possible way he will make the best of 
things. In doing so he will teach his boys 
to do the same. Boys and young men catch 
their father's tone toward the women of the 
household, and where you find a husband 
uniformly courteous, uniformly gentle of 
speech and sweet of manner, you find boys 
growing up after the same pattern. 



56 The Art of Being Agreeable. 

Let me say in addition to this that no class 
of people seem to me so really noble at the 
core and so self-denying- as American hus- 
bands. They are contented to work year in 
and year out for the advancement and 
pleasure of their families. Nothing is too 
hard for them. They ask little for them- 
selves. They are proud of their wives and 
daughters, and their faults, such as they are, 
are usually on the surface and do not go very 
deeply. But one may neutralize the effect 
of a thousand real sacrifices by a disagree- 
able manner, and many a good man is not 
appreciated as he should be because he has 
not learned to control the expression of dis- 
approval or the little action in his own home 
which would be impossible to him in that 
of a stranger. 

Patience, no matter what is our appointed 
lot, is a wise prescription for us all to take. 
Let us remember that 

" One stitch and another stitch, and the longest rent is 
mended; 
One step and another step, and the longest way is 
ended." 

It will not be very long before for all 
of us the way will be ended, and noth- 
ing can be more delightful than to be re- 
membered as always having made the best 
of things, always having been sweet and 
courageous and pure and a blessing to all 
whom we have met. On a little grave in 



Sunshiny Husbands. 57 

Vermont there stands a stone with this in- 
scription : 

OUR MOTHER. 

She was always so pleasant. 

Why should not fathers, equally with 
mothers, earn this description ? 



58 The Art of Being Agreeable. 



PARENTS AND CHILDREN. 

The inexperience of childhood, its depen- 
dence and its helplessness in the hands of 
those who have it in charge should make 
us who are older think very seriously on 
the subject of children's rights. In these 
days what is called " child culture" has be- 
come a fad, and many people are studying 
children, their habits and little ways, trying 
to discover their points of view, and acting 
very much as botanists do when they an- 
alyze a plant. 

After all, the great requirements for chil- 
dren are sympathy and freedom. The par- 
ent must try to put himself or herself in the 
child's place, must remember that a little 
being who has been only a few years in the 
world cannot judge of things as older peo- 
ple do, and must give the child a chance to 
develop naturally along its own lines. 

This is not to say that children should 
not be taught obedience and truthfulness. 
It is a child's right to learn that in this world 
all things move according to law, and the 
kind father and mother try to show the child 
from the very first that all happiness con- 
sists in harmony, that the disagreeable, fret- 



Parents and Children. 59 

ful and unreasonable child makes a jar and 
discord which was not intended by God, 
and that, not because of the parents' will, 
but in order that the child may learn self- 
control, the older must lead the younger in 
paths of righteousness. 

Dr. John Brown of Edinburgh remarks in 
an essay entitled "My Father's Memoir," 
"My first recollection of my father, my first 
impression, not only of his character, but 
of his eyes and face and presence, strange 
as it may seem, dates from my fifth year. 
Doubtless I had looked at him often enough 
before that, and had my own childish 
thoughts about him ; but this was the time 
when I got my fixed, compact idea of him, 
and the first look of him w r hich I felt could 
never be forgotten. I saw him, as it were, 
by a flash of lightning, sudden and com- 
plete. 

"A child begins by seeing bits of every- 
thing ; it knows in part — here a little, there 
a little ; it makes up its wholes out of its 
own littles, and is long in reaching the ful- 
ness of a whole ; and in this we are children 
all our lives, in much. Children are long of 
seeing, or at least of looking at what is above 
them ; they like the ground, and its flowers 
and stones, its ' red-sodgers ' and lady-birds, 
and all its queer things ; their world is about 
three feet high, and they are more often 
stooping than gazing up. I know I was 
past ten before I saw, or cared to see, the 



60 The Art of Being Agreeable. 

ceilings of the rooms in the manse at 
Biggar." 

I think we forget very often how limited 
is the world of childhood. Very few grown 
people remember just what their aims and 
dreams and pleasures and feelings were 
when they were little creatures in the nurs- 
ery or during the first years of school life. 
Many times it appeared to them as if the 
grown people around them, parents and 
teachers, were arbitrary beings, invested 
with power which they used with little 
thought of the children's convenience and 
pleasure. 

Children are being constantly interrupted. 
No matter what they are doing — building 
houses of blocks, drawing pictures on their 
slates., reading an interesting story — it is 
expected that they will at once drop every 
pursuit of their own, and go pleasantly and 
even eagerly on the errands of their elders. 

That little feet should run on other peo- 
ple's errands and little hands should always 
be ready to be obliging is so true and so 
necessary, not only to their own culture, but 
to the machinery of our homes, in order that 
all may run smoothly, that we sometimes 
forget to be considerate where our juniors 
are concerned. 

I hold that one should not needlessly in- 
terrupt a child in its occupations, that every 
favor asked of one younger than ourselves 
should be a matter of politeness, that we 



Parents and Children. 61 

should say "Please" and "I beg pardon " 
to the little ones, that we should thank 
them for what they do for us precisely as 
we apologize and acknowledge and are 
courteous to our older friends. 

There is a sweet atmosphere about some 
homes, an atmosphere of kind feeling, con- 
fidence and good-will, and it is usually dis- 
covered that this reigns where parents are 
polite to children, and where children are 
trained by example as well as by precept in 
the practice of gentle speech and of an 
obliging, accommodating disposition. 

We have no right to force upon children 
food which is disagreeable to their palates. 
Of course there is such a thing as a capri- 
cious child who rejects what is good for him 
and changes his mind several times in an 
hour. When such a child is found we may 
be sure that back of him stands a foolish 
and capricious mother, who has had so little 
common sense in her management that she 
has fostered in the child these disagreeable 
ways. 

A few days ago, at a summer hotel, I wit- 
nessed an exhibition of ill-temper on the 
part of a mother toward a little child, at a 
public table, which shocked not only my- 
self but the others in the company. One 
lady said almost audibly, "That mother is 
going to make of her child a liar and a 
coward." Another, a physician of distinc- 
tion, said, "I was sorely tempted to inter- 



62 The Art of Being Agreeable. 

fere and say to the mother that she forgot 
that the nervous impressionability of chil- 
dren is very great, and that such scenes 
would be remembered by her little one in 
years to come/' 

The child tried to explain something to 
his mother, but every time he said, 
"Mamma, please let me tell you/' the 
mother said, very sternly, " Hush this in- 
stant ; if you say another word I will send 
you to bed without your supper. I don't 
wish to hear anything about it." And thus 
she went on, speaking in loud, impatient 
tones, forgetful of the fact that she was mak- 
ing of herself an exhibition of weakness 
most pitiful to behold. 

If we would have gentle, well-bred chil- 
dren, we must treat them with gentleness and 
consideration ourselves. Miss Lillie Ham- 
ilton French, writing in Harper 's Bazar, thus 
sums up one side of the matter when she 
speaks of The Spirit of the Eternal Don't. 

" It may belong to one of the great dual 
forces that rule life — belong, in other w r ords, 
to the negative as distinguished from the 
positive forces, and be therefore rightly ac- 
counted for in the general ordering of the 
universe. And yet, when all is said and 
done, it must certainly be confessed that few 
things are capable of making life so un- 
pleasant and so disastrous as this spirit once 
rampant among our friends. 

t( Some persons are altogether controlled 



Parents and Children. 63 

both in thought and action by it. They 
stand as eternal protests against whatever 
is or whatever is about to be. They con- 
tribute nothing and oppose all things. 
They setup their petty prejudice or personal 
predilection, and expect to damn with them 
the incoming currents of renewing life. 

" ' What is your name ? ' asked some one 
of a small boy who was always being 
nagged. ' Charley Don't/ he answered, 
having in his cheerful imperturbability mis- 
taken the invariable accompaniment to his 
Christian name. 

" But few of us have the imperturbability 
of this child under the don'ts of our families 
or our friends. Some of us have our spon- 
taneity crushed. Some of us grow rebel- 
lious and indignant, and are in this way 
forced into opposite extremes, getting off 
our balance on the other side. And most 
of us grow self-conscious, and have periods 
in which we question every one of our best 
impulses, weighing them against our mo- 
tives. 

1 'The development of many young persons 
sensitive to impressions is retarded for years 
by the thoughtless don't of an elder whose 
opinions they have been taught to respect. 
For many of the don'ts are thoughtless, 
springing from habit, and not from serious 
consideration. I know a wise old lady who 
said don't so many times one morning to a 
grown-up daughter that she detected herself 



6\ The Art of Being Agreeable. 

in it at last and laughed. ' Don't pay any 
attention to me/ she said at last, 'I only 
say it, because I always have. ' 

" Circumstances present us with so many 
impediments, one often wonders why our 
fellow-men should want to provide us with 
so many more ; why they should perpet- 
ually say, for instance, ' Oh, don't do that ! ' 
when we happen to make a courteous re- 
mark to some one they do not know, or 
when we have a hospitable instinct they do 
not share, or a charitable impulse they do 
not on the instant share. For the curious 
part of all is this — when the rewards of our 
best impulses (those opposed by them) are 
reaped, they settle complacently down to 
take a smiling share in them. How proudly 
parents bask in the sunshine of a child's 
success whose new departure they once 
thwarted with all their strength and author- 
ity ! And the reverse of this is true — how 
we are condemned for losing that which the 
don'ts of another have driven out of us. 
Some law of right is at work with us, and 
the penalty all pay for having interfered 
with another's development is that we live 
to mourn the loss of that which we have 
suppressed. We repulse with a don't the 
demonstrations of our children and of those 
who are nearest to us, and we live to per- 
ish of hunger for them. 

"The spirit of the don't rules in the Ten 
Commandments ; but when the higher dis- 



Parents and Children. 65 

pensation, came in the Beatitudes given on 
another Mount, it was no longer ' Thou 
shalt not,' but 'Blessed are J 

" How many of us who try to rule others 
with don'ts are capable of suggesting even 
what a substitute for the thing proscribed 
ought to be? We say don't to a child who 
offends us by loud speech, but can we show 
him the right tones instead ? Can we teach 
him to pitch his voice in a lower key, or 
will we even be at pains to do it ? 

Another right of children on which, in 
view of their relations to the world at large 
as well as to their parents, we cannot too 
much insist, is on their being believed what- 
ever they may say. We teach children 
to be untruthful by doubting their word. 
Children live in a sort of imaginative world. 
They often make extraordinary statements 
simply because they are romancing in the 
fairyland in which they live, but they do 
not mean to be in the least untrue. The 
thing for us to do is to accept their state- 
ments, and when they become too poetical 
to gradually lead the child back to the 
prosaic land in which we live. Heaven 
lies about us in our infancy, and 

" Trailing clouds of glory do we come 
From Heaven, which is our home." 

It does not take many years to dispel the 
starry haze, luminous, yet vague, in which 

5 



66 The Art of Being Agreeable, 

we walk at first. Before long, as children 
grow older, they learn to discriminate be- 
tween the ideal and the real, If we invari- 
ably speak the truth to them ; if we keep our 
promises to the very letter, whether or not 
it is convenient for us to do so ; if we use 
as few threats as possible, but carry them 
out relentlessly ; if, in short, our children 
live in a world of perfect truth and sincerity, 
they will be true themselves. Never let a 
child know, if you can help it, that there is 
such a thing as a lie in the world. 

If you wish lovely, agreeable and delight- 
ful children, of whom you can be proud be- 
fore your friends, and who w T ill do the fam- 
ily credit wherever they go, be sure that 
they live in a home atmosphere full of sun- 
shine, that their rate of health is kept at the 
highest, and from an early age they learn 
that they are not their own, but are, like all 
the rest of us, responsible for their deeds to 
the Heavenly Father. 

Dr. Holland, in his Letters to the Joneses, 
has some very sensible words to over-anx- 
ious parents, those who govern as the czar 
does by an absolute despotism, wholly ex- 
acted from the outside. After talking very 
plainly to one of the conscientious, but ever- 
lastingly nagging sort of mothers who do 
exist, to the crushing of all joy in child- 
hood, and the effacing of individual traits 
in young people, this judicious counsellor 
says pithily : 



Parents and Children. 67 

" You ask me what I really mean by all 
this, for you are a practical woman, and are 
not to be taken in by a set of easily written 
phrases. Well, I will try to explain, or illus- 
trate, my meaning. I remember a gather- 
ing at your house — a party of friends — to 
which your children were admitted ; and I 
remember with painful distinctness the tele- 
graphic communication which you main- 
tained with them during the whole evening. 
If James got his legs crossed, or, in his 
drowsiness, gaped, or if he coughed, or 
sneezed, or laughed above a certain key, 
or made a remark, or moved his chair, it 
was: 'James, h — m!' — 'James, h — m!' 
'James, h — m!' And James was only 
one of half a dozen whom you treated in 
the same way. You began the evening 
with the feeling that you were entirely re- 
sponsible for the behavior of those children 
— just as much responsible as if they sever- 
ally were the fingers of your hand. You 
acted as if they were machines which, for 
the evening, you had undertaken to operate. 
They felt that they were under the eye of a 
vigilant keeper, and they did not dream 
of such a thing as acting for themselves. 
They were acting for you, and they did not 
know until they heard your suggestive 
'h — m ! ' whether they were right or wrong. 
You undertook for the evening to be to them 
in the stead of their sense of propriety ; and 
the communication between them and you 



68 The Art of Being Agreeable, 

being imperfect, they often offended. I 
know that your own good sense will tell 
you now that this is not the way gentlemen 
and ladies are made. 

" I was recently in a family circle where I 
witnessed a most delightful contrast to all 
this — where the sons and daughters were 
brought up and introduced to me by the 
father and mother with as much politeness 
and cordiality as if they were kings and 
queens every one, and with as much free- 
dom as if the parents had not the slightest 
doubt that the children — from the oldest to 
the youngest — would bear themselves like 
ladies and gentlemen. There was no for- 
wardness on the part of these children, as 
you may possibly suppose ; yet there was 
perfect self-possession ; and each child knew 
that he stood upon his own merits. 

'''There was a feature of your family gov- 
ernment (which you held in common with 
your husband) that made still more com- 
plete the slavery of your children. It was 
the deacon's opinion, you will remember, 
that a boy who was not too tired to play at 
ball, or slide down hill, or skate, was not 
too tired to saw wood, and it was his policy 
to direct all the excess of animal life which 
his boys manifested into the channels of in- 
dustry and usefulness. You seconded this 
opinion, and maintained that a girl who was 
not too sleepy to make a doll's hat, or a 
dolls dress, was not too sleepy to hem a 



Parents and Children, 69 

handkerchief, or darn a stocking. So your 
children never had what children call ' a 
good time.' Always kept at work when 
possible, and always restrained in every ex- 
hibition of the spirit of play, home became 
an irksome place to them, and childhood a 
dreary period. Your children were never 
permitted to do anything to please them- 
selves in their own way. Everything was 
done — or you insisted that everything should 
be done — to please you in your way. If one 
of your daughters sat down to rest, or resorted 
to a little quiet amusement, you stirred her at 
once by some petty command. I w r as often 
tempted to be angry with you because you 
would never give your children any peace. 
You had always something for them to do, 
and something that had to be done just at 
the very time when they were enjoying them- 
selves the best. 

li 'Precept upon precept' is very well in 
its way, but principle is much better. The 
principle of right and proper acting, fully 
inculcated, renders unnecessary all precepts ; 
and until a child has fully received this prin- 
ciple he is without the basis of manhood. 
The earlier this principle is received and a 
child thrown upon his own responsibility, 
and made to feel that he is a man, lacking 
only years to give him strength and wisdom, 
the safer that boy is for time and for eternity. 
The moment a boy becomes morally re- 
sponsible, he becomes, in an important 



?o The Art of Being Agreeable. 

sense, free." There is pleasure and satisfac- 
tion in freedom, but only restraint and a 
continual sense of grievance, where slavery 
is maintained in the family. 



Over-Sensitive People. yi 



OVER-SENSITIVE PEOPLE. 

A great deal of unhappiness results in this 
world from the quickness of people to take 
offence when none is intended. There are 
men who are forever going around with a 
chip on their shoulders, begging some one 
to knock it off. There are women who 
constantly wear an air of martyrdom ; their 
feelings are so easily hurt that to live with 
them is like a perpetual walking on thin ice 
— you never know when you are going to 
break through. Such living is a strain on 
both parties, the offended and the offenders 
alike. 

One of the faults against which we should' 
guard ourselves is this facility of resent- 
ment ; the fancying that people intend to 
wound us, when in fact nothing is further from 
their thoughts. We have all known people 
with whom it was never safe to talk of cer- 
tain subjects ; they acted upon them as the 
traditional red rag upon the bull in the 
pasture. Others — and these not infrequently 
the ones most ready to jest themselves — are 
exceedingly annoyed if any one makes fun, 
even in the most good-humored way, of 
anything they do. They cannot have liber- 



/-* 



The Art of Being Agreeable. 



ties taken with them, and woe to him or her 
who dares to invade their conscious dignity. 

Such people are not pleasant to live with, 
nor do they usually make many friends. 
Why should we not take it for granted that 
those with whom we associate are, as a rule, 
kind-hearted and good-natured, and that 
they intend nothing but good when they are 
talking with us ? 

I will, however, let a caution come in 
against one person who is to be avoided as 
a plague and a bore wherever he is found. 
One can hardly be over-sensitive in speak- 
ing of this individual, who goes about enjoy- 
ing himself at the expense of his friends, and 
whose conduct is worthy the greatest repro- 
bation, — I mean the person who engages in 
the practical jest. 

A practical jest is seldom permissible, and 
it often has very bad and long-continued 
results. I have myself known of cases in 
which a fatal shock was given to one who 
was frightened by seeing some one step out 
of the dark wrapped in a sheet, or by the 
presence of a pretended burglar in the room, 
or by some other foolishness, which, after 
all, had a droll side only to the one who 
originated it. The practical jest has not a 
single aspect which is even tolerable. 

Apart from practical jesting, the harmless 
fun and drollery of life are to be cultivated, 
and they are very unwise who allow them- 
selves to be disturbed because the people 



Over-Sensitive People. 73 

around them choose to say witty or humor- 
ous things even at their expense. Join in 
the laugh, and refuse to consider your amour- 
propre. 

A good plan is sometimes to tell a story 
against one's self; and do not refuse to be 
genuinely amused if somebody else tells a 
good story of which you are the theme. 

People are apt to say in anger things which 
they express more strongly than they would 
if they waited for a moment of calmness. Im- 
pulsive natures often go too far, and use ex- 
aggeration when modified statements would 
be truer. In all questions of domestic dis- 
cussion and in committee meetings and 
churches, and wherever people gather so- 
cially, differences of opinion will arise, and 
there will always be some who say a little 
more than they mean, or some who preserve 
a silence which is in itself a reproof or a 
reproach. 

Instead of carrying away a heartache or 
even a transient pain from such encounters, 
the wiser way is to discount in one's mind 
that which has been said in haste, and to 
await the cool leisure of after-thought before 
making any rejoinder. A sensible woman 
once said, " It never occurs to me as at all 
possible that anybody would like to hurt 
my feelings, or that anybody could snub 
me." In consequence, this dear lady walked 
tranquilly through life, never taking offence, 
always happy and pleased. 



74 The Art of Being Agreeable. 

Intense self-consciousness is at the bottom 
of most of our touchiness. Can you fancy- 
Queen Victoria ever feeling that anybody- 
wishes to pass her by with neglect ? And 
shall not each of us in her place consider 
herself quite as much a Queen as the splen- 
did woman who has so long sat upon Eng- 
land's throne ? 

In a very lovely book which I suppose 
almost everybody has read, "Cranford," 
there is given a charming instance of a man 
who was popular, partly because positively 
oblivious of anything intended to so much 
as criticise his ordinary behavior. Cranford 
was a little place inhabited mainly by 
women — widows and spinsters — living on 
small incomes. Life moved in Cranford 
with great quietude and little friction. 
Everybody knew what everybody else had 
to spend and felt called upon to put the 
best foot foremost on all occasions, always, 
however, with entire politeness and consid- 
eration for others. 

To this little town of Cranford came 
Captain Brown and his two daughters, Jessie 
and Mary. To have a man living in the 
place at all, and constantly around, as a re- 
tired officer without occupation had occasion 
to be, was at first considered rather an inflic- 
tion by the ladies of the place. They did 
not know how they would get along with 
Captain Brown ; and, indeed, the Captain s 
unaffected, manly ways of doing things, 



Over-Sensitive People. 75 

his loud voice, his large feet, his hearty 
way of laughing and shouting around the 
place troubled and disturbed the dear ladies 
very much. 

But they presently found that it did no 
good to turn cold looks and faces upon 
Captain Brown. He was entirely unaware 
of giving them any displeasure. Presently 
it was discovered that the new element was 
not at all objectionable, and that Captain 
Brown's ready and gentle hand in passing 
a teacup, his constant patience with his 
invalid daughter, his chivalry to pretty Miss 
Jessie, and his general air of good fellowship 
with all the world, made Cranford much 
more entertaining than it had formerly 
been. 

When one does not seem to feel darts and 
arrows ; when these simply glance against 
an armor of reserve and indifference, the 
persons who throw them soon cease to find 
amusement in the occupation. Perhaps it 
would be well for some of us to learn the 
stolidity of other races than ours ; the 
Chinaman, for instance, and the Indian 
are trained from the cradle to show no 
emotion whatever, either of pleasure or 
pain, and their faces are masks behind 
which no one knows what may be going 
on. To some extent this stolidity is to be 
desired as a shield against needless wound- 
ing and pain. 

If we wear our heart on our faces, our 



76 The Art of Being Agreeable. 

faces grow old faster. Still, one would not 
like to see a number of immobile, expres- 
sionless people going about ; life would 
then be colorless and stagnant. Can we 
not draw the line at allowing our faces to 
show only feelings of pleasure and good- 
will, keeping from them exasperation, in- 
dignation, hatred, contempt, and all the 
malevolent emotions, and permitting them 
to reveal only the sweet, gentle, and beauti- 
ful thoughts which come and go in our 
minds ? Beware, too, of being too literal, too 
intensely matter-of-fact. Cultivate imagi- 
nation as a healing balm for many stings. 

After all, we may as well be as happy as 
we can in this world. Enough trouble will 
come to us which we cannot possibly w T ard 
away. It is always within our power to 
defend ourselves from those wounds which 
are simply made in our self-love. Vanity is 
a plant of very strong growth, striking its 
roots deep down into the soil of human 
nature. If we could be entirely free from 
vanity, it is doubtful whether it w r ould occur 
to us to be hurt or over-sensitive, and to 
take offence when no offence is intended. 

Mrs. Alice Hamilton Rich, in a thoughtful 
paper, says : 

"How often we hear the expression, 'I 
am so sensitive,' when, if the truth were 
told, it would be, 'I am so selfish/ By 
sensitiveness is usually meant more than 
usual refinement. This may be true if we 



Over-Sensitive People, JJ 

substitute refinement of selfishness, or in- 
ordinate self-consciousness. More often it 
is the woman, still oftener the young girl, 
who prides herself on her sensitiveness. If 
it is the little child, the foolish mother 
speaks of this quality as something of which 
to be proud, and because of which her child 
at home, in school, in society, ought to re- 
ceive special consideration. This is either 
given or not given, as teacher or friends see 
fit. If it is given, the child grows more 
selfish. Friends still politely call it sensi- 
tiveness as years are added to the young 
life. If mothers could but realize what ob- 
stacles to success and happiness they are 
themselves placing before their children, 
they would help their children to be sensible 
and unselfish, the two qualities w T hich will, 
if planted early and closely to the sensitive 
plant, choke out the weed, for it is a weed. 

"While selfishness is at the root of 
sensitiveness, self-consciousness is often 
the immediate cause. The one who most 
fully forgets self is least likely to see 
reason to be sensitive. It is really an in- 
ordinate appreciation of self which makes 
one live in the look-out tower and invite 
the shafts of the enemy and bare his bosom 
to the smiter. If a woman busies herself 
in home, church, or philanthropic work ; if 
a man, when not occupied with business 
duties, interests himself in his own children 
and becomes absorbed in some recreative 



78 The Art of Being Agreeable. 

study, there will be little time to give thought 
to unpleasant criticisms, still less for the 
imaginary slights of neighbors and friends."" 
A real gentleman and lady are unconscious of 
self, and hence perfectly at ease. The true 
man and woman are unselfishly desirous to 
be helpful to others. Not that they may 
receive their own with usury, but because 
the heart of the giver is overflowing with a 
wealth of blessed helpfulness which must 
find objects and places for its expression 
and overflow. 

"The so-called sensitive woman unites 
with the church, either taking upon herself 
the duties of membership for the first time 
or coming from a sister church. Usually 
such an one is pleased with the immediate 
welcome accorded to her. In a general 
way she is invited to the meetings of the 
church. Very soon some members of the 
various women's societies ask her to join 
them. Perhaps she comes once or twice 
and is cordially welcomed. Only a few of 
the busy workers find time to call upon her. 
She is sensitive, thinks she is not properly 
looked after, ceases to put herself in the 
way of the working women, making no 
place for herself in the church work, re- 
mains at home, and is soon really and truly 
forgotten. 

"Whose fault is it? No doubt partially 
that of the older members, but more truly 
her own. She was given an opportunity to 



Over-Sensitive People. 79 

become acquainted with her sisters in the 
church and to make herself a power, if not 
an aggressive element, in church work. 
But, as she says, she was too sensitive to 
push herself where she was not wanted. 
Most likely her sensitiveness was pure self- 
ishness and an exaggerated estimate of 
her own value. She was wanted. There 
w T as a place waiting for her, as for any one 
who earnestly seeks after it, but busy women 
have no time to run after those who will not 
meet them half way. The woman who is 
so sensitive, that she needs coaxing, is too 
sensitive for any use. She may as well step 
aside into her small corner to brood, at her 
own sweet will, over fancied slights, while 
the women who put themselves into the 
working circle widen and broaden their in- 
fluence as the circle grows larger and larger, 
until the influence which they exert is truly 
marvellous. 

"One often hears women say, 'I cannot 
become an officer in a society or a promi- 
nent member of a committee, I am so sensi- 
tive about what others say of me.' 

"Which is the more important, the needed 
work or the possible criticism of the worker ? 
Is it sensitiveness or a selfish putting of 
one's own ease and comfort paramount to 
the good wfeich needs to be done? If in 
the judgment of wise women one is suited 
for a special work, why not accept the work, 
do one's best, and take no anxious thought 



80 The Art of Being Agreeable. 

of what 'they say/ Very likely mistakes 
will be made, criticisms be given ; but why 
should you and I keep ourselves apart from 
the workers lest we be so unfortunate as to 
make mistakes or be misunderstood ? After 
all, each one of us as individuals are of little 
consequence save to ourselves and imme- 
diate friends, and doubtless less is said of 
us than we in our egotism think/' 

SINGING IN THE RAIN. 

Hear my happy little bird 

Singing through the rain — 
Singing while the fitful showers 

Dash against the pane. 
"Blue sky somewhere," carols he, 

From his "fearless heart, 
Though the clouds are gathering thick, 

And the chill winds start. 

Sweet and shrill the silver notes 

Weave a wordless strain ; 
"Blue sky somewhere," in my thought 

Is their glad refrain. 
Always sunshine just beyond, 

Brief the present ill, 
Trouble never long to last, 

Is their meaning still. 

Sing thy sweetest, merry bird, 

Comforter of mine, 
Bringing, in thy little way, 

Help from Love divine ; 
Thou hast given me the clasp 

Of a golden chain, 
Let from heaven into my hand, 

Through the clouds and rain. 



Over-Sensitive People. 81 

What though all my way be hedged, 

Love shall ope a door 
For the feet that follow fain 

His that went before. 
What though trials test my faith, 

Peace shall yet maintain 
Right to rule in one who walks 

Singing in the rain. 

More than I can count of good 

Aye has been my share ; 
Dearest hands to help me on, 

Having all my care; 
Blessings marking every way, 

To the latest one, 
And the shadow only proof 

Of the glowing sun. 

Therefore, with undaunted front, 

Trusting in my King, 
Shall I face whatever foe 

In the path may spring. 
So I hear a note of cheer 

In the brave refrain 
Of my merry little bird, 

Singing in the rain. 



82 The Art of Being Agreeable. 



THE CHILD'S POINT OF VIEW. 

One of the most interesting families of 
whom I have ever heard was that wonder- 
ful Quaker family named Gurney who lived 
in Earlham, England, just about one hun- 
dred years ago. The family of the Gurneys 
was very simple and rural. There were 
four sons and seven daughters, all of whom 
were brought up in habits of great affection 
and loyalty by an excellent mother, part of 
whose creed was that a woman's life ought 
to be passed in regulating the affairs of her 
family. 

In a memorandum found after Mrs. Gur- 
ney's death, she says that " A wife should 
work plain work neatly herself, and under- 
stand the cutting-out of linen ; also, she 
should not be ignorant of the common pro- 
prieties of the table, or deficient in the 
economy of any of the most minute affairs 
of a family. It should be here observed 
that gentleness of manner is indispensably 
necessary in women, to say nothing of that 
polished behavior which adds a charm to 
every qualification ; and to both of these it 
appears certain that children may be led, 



The Child's Point of View. 83 

without vanity or affectation, by amiable 
and judicious instruction/' 

Of the children of this Gurney family sev- 
eral came to great estate, and all were very 
useful in their day and generation. Samuel 
Gurney became a great banker and philan- 
thropist, a man universally respected and 
beloved. In his old age a silversmith in 
Norwich was suspected of having committed 
forgery, which in those days was punishable 
with death. Mr. Gurney investigated the 
case, and, being convinced of the man's 
entire innocence, himself went and stood 
beside him in the prisoner's dock, a sight 
which so impressed all beholders that the 
question of the man's acquittal was very soon 
settled. 

Joseph Gurney was equally well-known 
for integrity and clinging to what he thought 
was right. Elizabeth, spoken of in the 
family during childhood as Betsey, became 
the celebrated Mrs. Elizabeth Fry, who was 
to the convicts and criminals of her day 
the benefactor and friend which Mrs. Bal- 
lington Booth is endeavoring to be to the 
unfortunate prisoners of our own period. 
Indeed, it is hard to find anywhere a family 
so extraordinary, and so distinguished for 
their goodness and freedom from ambition, 
as these Quaker Gurneys of Earlham. 

The mother died when the youngest of 
her eleven children was a baby and the 
oldest a young girl. Upon the shoulders of 



84 The Art of Being Agreeable. 

Catherine Gurney, before she was twenty, 
came the care and mothering- of the great 
brood of brothers and sisters ; and she filled 
the place of mother and sister wonderfully, 
with rare discretion, tact, and loving self- 
forgetf ulness. 

As few families have ever more worthily 
filled a place in their generation, and as 
they were noted for good-breeding and 
good manners as well as for principle, I 
think it pertinent to the subject to introduce 
a rather prolonged mention of them here. 
In the first place, we will take a peep at the 
journal kept by a little girl, Louisa Gurney, 
one hundred years ago. Reading between 
the lines, we shall see how this child was 
trained in the eternal verities and also in 
the little conventionalities which make life 
happy or miserable, as they are practised 
or neglected. 

"April 3, 1796. — I am eleven years old. I 
love my father better than anybody except 
Kitty ; she is everything to me. I cannot 
feel that she has a fault, and I am sure that 
I shall always continue to love her as I do 
now. To dear Rachel I feel differently. I 
should love her more if I thought she loved 
me half as much as I love her. To Betsy I 
feel a particular sort of attachment ; her ill- 
health and sweetness draw my heart to her 
entirely. John I love very much. To 
Chenda, how odd I feel ! I often long to 
be intimate with her, but can't ; I am so 



The Child's Point of Viezv. 85 

sharply repulsed. I think Hannah a supe- 
rior girl in many respects, but she has some 
disagreeable qualities. I love the three dear 
little boys heartily : they will be charming 
men. I love dearest Elizabeth truly, and 
am more intimate with her than with any- 
body in the world. I like all the Enfields 
very much : I think they are a most delight- 
ful family. 

"April 8. — I have done nothing to-day to 
please anybody, nor the least good. I am 
really a most disagreeable common charac- 
ter, and the reason why people love me can 
be only from habit. 

"April 15. — Kitty and Joseph and Dan 
went to Cousin Freshfleld's. We are never so 
comfortable when Kitty is away. I am 
always afraid of doing anything behind her 
back that I would not do before her, and it 
is difficult to be steadfast to what we know 
she would like when she is not constantly 
with us. 

"June 1. — I will write about Earlham. 
My father is master, Kitty is mistress. Gover- 
ness, disliked by most of the family, sits in 
the drawing-room almost all day. Rachel 
and Betsy have their own employments. 
Rachel and Kitty sleep together in the Blue 
Room : the closet is entirely Rachels. The 
nursery is where Betsy, Hannah, Cilia, and 
I sleep. The night-nursery is the boys' 
room and nurse's. Chenda sleeps with the 
governess. The first maid is Judd, a con- 



86 1 lie A rt of Being Agreeable. 

vinced Friend and trustworthy old servant. 
Nurse Sarah Williams comes next, and is 
very particular about us : her greatest hap- 
piness is to see us neat ; she olten tires me 
by scoldings about keeping my clothes 
neat. . . . Scarnell is a worthy man, 
who has had the greatest concern to be a 
Friend, and is now going to be one. Mr. 
and Mrs. Driver and their baby live at the 
lodge gate. . . . We have lived in this 
sweet place ten years. 

"June 13. — In the afternoon we walked 
about instead of lessons — I do so like my 
liberty. I think it most silly to bring chil- 
dren up to be always at work. I am sure I 
should be better and happier if I did not 
learn much ; it does try my temper so 
much. 

"June 21. — To-day is the great day of the 
Yearly Meeting. All Friends come that 
like it. We had not so many as usual, only 
twenty-seven. We went to a long dis 
(stands for disagreeable) meeting after break- 
fast. 

"Rachel has begun to teach us our lessons. 
I like her teaching very much, though not 
nearly so much as Kitty's; she treats me 
as other girls are treated, but Kitty treats us 
as if we were reasonable creatures. I hate 
the common way of teaching children ; peo- 
ple treat them as if they were idiots, and 
never let them judge for themselves. 

"July 31. — After breakfast I picked most 



The Child's Point of View. 87 

of the servants some gooseberries, and Judd's 
mother a whole basketful. How very good 
of me ! I have the greatest pleasure in do- 
ing things to please others ; it is one of my 
best qualities. . . . Another of my 
qualities which people call most bad, but 
which I think rather good, is that I cannot 
bear strict authority over me. I do from 
the bottom of my heart hate the preference 
shown in all things to my elders merely 
because they have been in the world a little 
longer. I do love equality and true de- 
mocracy. 

''August 1. — I got up early and wrote to 
Elizabeth, who is rather dis. to me now. I 
do not like her as much as I did. I felt ex- 
tremely cross in the morning, so many little 
things came to cross me. I have been quite 
struck lately with my own disagreeableness. 
We four did something in the afternoon 
which Kitty had forbidden us, and my con- 
science pinched me the whole time. 1 have 
also been rather selfish to-day. 

"August 6. — Rachel sang in the evening. 
Kitty stood by me in the window. She 
took my hand and almost said she loved 
me. How charming ! All my old feelings 
of love to her returned. The evening was 
so delightful and Rachel's singing so touch- 
ing ! I went to bed in the most happy frame 
of mind and body. 

"August 10. — Betsy has talked to me, and 
quite convinced me that we do not treat my 



88 The Art of Being Agreeable. 

father with sufficient love : but I really do 
love my father from the bottom of my 
heart. 

August 19. — I was very angry with Rachel 
for treating Chenda differently, just because 
she is a little older than me ; there is noth- 
ing on earth I detest so much as this. I 
think children ought to be treated according 
to their merit, not their age. I love democ- 
racy, whenever and in whatever form it 
appears. 

" August 24. — I got up early and made a 
pincushion for nurse's sister. I think it is 
quite right to pay these sort of attentions to 
servants, and if we do it out of kindness, it 
is more virtue to give a present to a person 
who has been rather ungrateful to you. I 
hate Betsy's management of our lessons. 
Now that Kitty is away at Northrepps, Betsy 
does it, and is quite disagreeable, she is so 
soon worried. 

"Feb. 24, 1797. — I shall relate what has 
passed in my mind lately. I think that I am 
improved altogether. I have been extremely 
busy, and have got into a good way of gain- 
ing knowledge, but I think I have grown 
rather vain, which is a most disgusting fault. 
Rachel has done me the greatest good. I 
admire and love her more than I can say. 
Being parted from dearest Kitty for some 
time has not the least abated my love, but 
it has encreased my fear of her. I do not 
feel in the least intimate with her, which 



The Child's Point of View. 89 

often vexes me. She now and then takes us 
up, and does not allow us to have any opin- 
ion. These things would not be observed 
in any one else, but she is usually so kind, 
so good, and so charming, that even a cool 
word seems odd in her. And her present 
plan of treating us as children rather hurts 
me, being of a somewhat forward disposition. 
Pitchford has been here twice since Kitty 
has been gone, and we have had most de- 
lightful days. He brought us four a box of 
Portugal plums. I never knew anything so 
kind. We had a most charming walk in the 
afternoon, when we all quarrelled for Pitch- 
ford s arm ; we are so perfectly free with 
him. I can't say how I admire him. After 
dinner we talked very pleasantly till tea ; after 
that we acted pantomimes, and then read 
poetry and enjoyed ourselves thoroughly 
After supper was the most delightful time 
of any ; I did feel so happy. They sang 
' Come, ye lads and lassies fair/ 

"My father has been to dine w T ith the 
Prince ; he likes him very much, and is de- 
lighted that be is coming here on seventh -day 
week. Uncle Joseph, and Hannah, and Jane 
have been here, and Uncle Joseph spoke to 
Rachel about going out to dances. Pie took 
her into the study, and w T hen he was gone she 
burst out crying. I did pity her so much. 
I am afraid she must give it up. All our 
hope is now laid upon her having a pianoforte 
at home. They are trying this grand point 



90 The Art of Being Agreeable. 

with my father : may they succeed, but I 
much doubt it. 

''April 26. — I always get up at five or six, 
which I call late. I read till breakfast, which 
I enjoy amazingly ; the breakfast is a little 
after eight. I am most busy all the morn- 
ing at lessons. I have about an hour for 
play. We dine at three. In the afternoon 
I write my French exercise and journal, and 
study botany, which I think is a most 
charming employment ; to study nature in 
any way is delightful. We drink tea about 
six, and have the most pleasant evenings. 
We all sit and work while Kitty reads to us. 
We have been reading Hayleys 'Triumph 
of Temper/ which I only like tolerably. I 
went to Keswick yesterday. Elizabeth and 
I had a large syllabub, and sucked it through 
straws. I think my mind has been in a 
very good state. I am improving. It is 
very pleasant to think so sometimes. One 
of my chief faults is speaking unkindly to 
Betsy : she does so provoke me. She be- 
haves in some things so aristocratically be- 
cause she is the eldest, and nothing makes 
me so angry as that. How very pleasant is 
Pitchford's company ! We had a charming 
walk, and then we came in and sat round 
the fire with Pitchford. We talked most in- 
terestingly, principally about religion. I 
can't say how much I admire what he said 
— the happiness he had in prayer, and he 
showed what a most delightful thing real de- 



The Child's Point of View. 91 

votion is, and what a comfort and support 
religion is to the mind. He spoke so charm- 
ingly and became so animated about it, it 
was enough to make one religious. I am 
determined I will be religious — really so, I 
mean. When Pitchford was gone, I went to 
bed, and lay awake till Kitty came. What 
Pitchford had said had gone so completely 
into my mind, that I thought about it the 
whole time, and somehow Kitty and I fell 
into talk about it. She said that it was only 
very lately that she had felt real devotion, 
and that it had made her far happier. I now 
intend to make it my aim to follow Pitch- 
ford and Kitty ; I never saw such perfect 
characters as they. The last time I was at 
Keswick, Elizabeth told me she wondered 
we were not all more charming than we 
are, living with Kitty. It rather hurt me : I 
don't know why, but it did. I believe it was 
because I felt it was true. I am determined 
I will try to make myself worthy of the pains 
that such a person as Kitty takes with me. 

" I really see and know my own faults. I 
know that I have a great many, and that it 
will require time and patience to cure them. 
I do not think I have a bad temper, but, on 
the contrary, very good. I am very affec- 
tionate, and my heart is open to warm im- 
pressions. I can't bear restraint, and it is 
difficult to govern me by strictness, though 
very possible to do it by kindness and per- 
suasion. I think I am not selfish, but the 



92 The Art of Being Agreeable. 

contrary. I oppose all restraint with too 
much vigor. I always tell my opinions and 
think them better than those of other people 
w T ho are wiser than I am. I think I am 
self-conceited. I have no mildness in my 
character, for I only see the virtues of a few, 
and look down with contempt upon the 
general run. I am wanting in real fortitude, 
though nothing is so useful. 

1 ' Oct. 13. — I have been in a good mind all 
day. The others have been truly disagree- 
able and idle. I was much inclined to catch 
the contagion, but I would not. I grave my 
mind entirely to my lessons. How far bet- 
ter it is to give our minds to the things we 
are about ; it is the only way to do them 
well." 

This is taken from " The Gurneys of Earlham " by 
Augustus Hare. 



Social Relations of Boys and Girls. 93 



THE SOCIAL RELATIONS OF BOYS AND 
GIRLS. 

We make a mistake when by our arbi- 
trary legislation we set boys and girls apart 
as if they were bound in association to do 
one another harm. God sets them in fami- 
lies where they are mutually helpful. In 
our blundering management we so contrive 
that it is from an early age almost impos- 
sible for young people between the periods 
of seven and sixteen years to meet in a per- 
fectly natural and innocent manner on the 
common ground God gives them. When the 
children are still in kilts and frilled petti- 
coats, we allow foolish people to put into 
their heads silly notions about beaux and 
sweethearts, and if a girl and a boy are seen 
walking and talking together we either call 
their attention to the difference of sex by a 
prohibition, always the effectual means of 
introducing the very element we wish to 
hold in abeyance, or we smile and nudge 
and look conscious, and never rest till our 
share of the mischief is done, and the boy 
and girl are prevented from meeting here- 
after simply as human beings. Far too 



94 The Art of Being Agreeable. 

early in life we either consciously and reck- 
lessly, or ignorantly and indiscreetly, tangle 
up those twisted skeins which are never 
straightened out till maturity comes, and the 
man seeks the woman and tells her he loves 
her, and she returns his love. 

During childhood and early youth the love 
element should not obtrude itself, nor does 
it where the intercourse of boys and girls is 
perfectly open, friendly, and taken for 
granted ; where it goes on under the eyes of 
parents and teachers not by the way of sur- 
veillance, but in the normal fashion and 
genial atmosphere of the happy home and 
healthful school. 

One cannot but grant that a marked and 
delightful spontaneity of manner, a charm 
acknowledged and felt by all who meet 
them, is the incomparable dower of well- 
bred men and women in the Southern States 
of America. This has been partially ex- 
plained by the custom of the South, which 
from infancy sets girls on a pedestal, with 
fathers, brothers, and cousins at their feet to 
pay them homage. But it is further largely 
due to the ease and grace of society in the 
educated circles of the South and West. 
Girls hold their little courts, and boys freely 
come and go, with perfect decorum all 
around, an absence of deceit, an absence of 
familiarity, no sense of indulging in a thing 
forbidden, and the pervading but not aggres- 
sive presence of parents and older friends im- 



Social Relations of Boys and Gi? 

parting the touch of distinction which 
at its best confers and implies. 

The instant one admits the surrc 
the instant the boy or the girl slips s 
away from the family, into the dusk, 
the garden, into the street, to the h); v ways 
and the byways, to enjoy the furtiv* t, to 

pay the inane compliment, to venu. 
the stolen caress which would be ashamea 
and disgraced should the honest daylight fall 
upon it, — that instant the serpent has entered 
Eden and evil has been wrought, evil it may 
be irremediable, and certainly deplorable. 

Our girls and boys are social in their dis- 
positions, and are intended to meet during 
childhood on a footing of frank and equal 
comradeship. The tendency of the times, 
especially in the sharing of wholesome out- 
door sports, such as golf or tennis, in which 
both sexes unite, and in our higher institu- 
tions, many of which are either co-ordinate 
or co-educational, is to more and more em- 
phasize this excellent and safe companion- 
ship. When the law came, says St. Paul, 
"sin revived and I died." Let us be careful 
not to bring about a condition of things 
which makes our boys and girls shame-faced 
hypocrites, by any ill-judged laws of ours 
which are founded on a misapprehension of 
God's ordering of society. 

Our young people need guidance, need 
influencing, do not need arbitrary external 
commandments. In their Christian Endea- 



The Art of Being Agreeable. 

cieties and Ep worth Leagues, in their 
. r People's Unions, wherever they meet 

ommon purpose on a common ground, 

intercourse is beyond the reach of the 
•id word, and justifies the wisdom which 
■ir beautiful age sets them at work to- 
getfc r. 

. ople frequently precipitate results which 

never intended by hasty and indis- 
criminating interferences, by uncalled-for 
comments, and by a general taking on 
themselves responsibilities which were not 
required. Sentiment seldom enters into the 
social intercourse of boys and girls, unless it 
is brought there by the meddlesome hands 
of injudicious older friends and spectators of 
that game of life which repeats in differing 
phases the same story through the swiftly 
rolling centuries. 

In the home, in the neighborhood, in the 
church and in the school, let the boys and 
girls meet on equal terms, above suspicion 
because without deceit, and they will be 
trained, daily and surely and imperceptibly 
as flowers and trees grow, for the amenities 
of maturer life. Let us avoid espionage, 
which is unw r orthy, and wholly unnecessary 
if parents live with their children and loving 
confidence reigns in the household. 



The DaugJiter at Home. 97 



THE DAUGHTER AT HOME. 

One of the most beautiful things a girl at 
home can do is to receive friends graciously. 
In one's own house a cordial manner is 
peculiarly fitting and pleasing. One should 
not stand off in the middle of a room and 
bow coldly and formally to a friend who 
has called ; this method has an air of chill 
and effectually keeps the visitor from being 
at ease. Walk across the room to meet the 
friend, extend your hand, and say pleasantly 
that you are very glad indeed to meet your 
acquaintance. Stiff, cold, and formal ways 
of greeting are never proper in a daughter 
welcoming guests to her father's house. 

The daughter of course assists her mother 
on every social occasion. She pours the 
tea in her mother's drawing-room when 
friends drop in at five o'clock, and she assists 
in every way that she can. She passes the 
sandwiches and the tea, and takes the cups 
from the guests who would like to be re- 
lieved. 

Two distinguished clergymen who were 

once visiting the poet Whittier were a little 

surprised and somewhat embarrassed to 

find Mr. Whittier's niece, a beautiful young 

7 



98 The Art of Being Agreeable. 

lady, the only waitress on the occasion of 
the dinner which they had with the poet. 
This young lady rose at intervals, changed 
the plates upon the table, and did various 
little things with a great deal of grace. 
" Rather/' said one of the gentlemen, ' c let 
us wait upon you." "Not at all/' said Mr. 
Whittier, "it is our simple American custom 
for the daughter of the house to wait upon 
the friends of the house, and it is her pleasure 
to thus serve you. v When dinner was over 
the young lady changed her gown and went 
off for a ride. 

Apart from, and even more important 
than, her manner to a guest who happens 
in for an hour or a day, is the manner of a 
daughter to her parents. The father comes 
home at night after a wearying day in busi- 
ness ; he is tired in body and mind. As his 
latch-key turns in the home door he throws 
off all care, and is joyous at the thought of 
the dear ones he will meet after hours of 
business. 

His young daughter, in a pretty gown, 
and with the bloom and freshness only girl- 
hood wears, should be ready to give him 
the attentions he loves — the kiss, the cheery 
word, and to help her mother and the others 
in letting her father see how much he is 
thought of at home. Men give up a great 
deal for their families — their time, their 
strength, the knowledge they have gained 
in life's experiences ; they spend everything 



The Daughter at Home. 99 

freely for their home's sake, and the home 
should pay its debt in much outspoken 
love. 

The daughter at home should practise 
small courtesies. 



" Little acts of kindness, 
Little words of love, 
Make our earth an Eden, 
Like the Heaven above." 



The daughter of the house when she goes 
abroad is the home's representative. People 
judge of her mother and her grandmother, 
and the stock she comes from, and the 
school she attended, and the companions 
she has had all her life, by her behavior in 
public. 

When you see a group of girls in a cable 
car or elevated train who are laughing and 
talking so loudly that they attract the atten- 
tion of every one in their neighborhood, you 
feel that they have not been well advised, 
for manners in public should be quiet. 

If this young woman of whom we are 
talking would always be agreeable she will 
remember the secret of ease is in not think- 
ing much about herself. When we entirely 
forget ourselves, bashfulness, awkwardness, 
clumsiness pass away. I have heard girls 
for instance complain of their height ; they 
say " wherever we go, we are taller than the 
others. " 



IOO The Art of Being Agreeable. 

I do not myself think it a disadvantage to 
be tall. If one carries oneself well, it cer- 
tainly is pleasant to be able to look over the 
heads of a crowd. Tall or short, fat and 
dumpy, or thin and pale, let no girl or 
woman think about the impression she is 
making, either by her diminutive or her 
stately size. 

If possible let the daughter at home have 
some accomplishment. In these years of 
musical culture it is no longer enough for a 
girl to play a little or sing a little, as it once 
was, but still there is danger that, in our very 
nicety of knowledge, the old-fashioned music 
which a girl played for her father and mother 
and a few friends in the evening is quite 
dying out. If one can play only marches 
and waltzes or accompaniments for songs, let 
her not despise this useful gift ; it adds a. great 
deal to the pleasure of home to have some 
one there who will sit down and occasion- 
ally wake the echoes with something sweet. 

The gift of gifts for a girl is expressed in 
one little word of five letters — charm. I 
can no more tell you what charm is than I 
can explain to you what makes the pleasure 
in the song of the thrush or the delight in 
the perfume of the rose ; but back across 
the years I think of this girl and that whom 
I have known, and I remember one and an- 
other who had charm in perfection. 

One whose name occurs to me now was 
not in the least pretty ; she was a little 



The Daughter at Home. 101 

brown-eyed creature who never dressed 
very well, and who slipped in and out of a 
room as softly and shyly as a mouse. The 
dear sweet Elizabeth was a perfect fairy in 
her home, where she was always ready to 
wait upon her father and brothers, where 
she was her mothers right hand, where 
nothing went on about which she was not 
consulted, and where her part was that of 
the beloved confidant, who knew all secrets, 
and the magician who kept everything as it 
ought to be. 

In school this sweet Elizabeth was popu- 
lar beyond all the girls of her class. She 
was constantly in demand, and nothing 
could be done without her. It was, " Where 
is Elizabeth ? What does Elizabeth say ? 
Will Elizabeth be at the party?" Once 
Elizabeth was ill, and a hush seemed to fall 
on the town, while people, old and young, 
were anxious to know how she was, and 
her house was a perfect bower with the 
flowers that were daily left for her. 

When she went away for a visit, half the 
town went to the station to see her off, and 
when she returned, the news was told 
around household fires, and everybody 
came to congratulate her parents on her re- 
turn. There were any number of prettier 
girls, any number of cleverer girls in the set, 
but none to compare with the little, dainty 
Elizabeth. 

She had charm. In her case charm was 



102 The Art of Being Agreeable. 

composed of several elements. Her voice 
was low, yet clear ; her tones were soft and 
distinct ; she never had an effect of insisting 
or forcing herself upon you, yet she was al- 
ways heard. She was never overlooked, 
although so gentle. Somehow she always 
remembered where things had been put, 
and lost articles drifted into her care. She 
could explain away small vexations. She 
remembered people's names and faces — a 
talent worth cultivating. 

Besides, she knew what was going on. 
She read the best books, listened to conver- 
sation about current events when her father 
and his friends were talking. When she did 
not understand, she asked a question, and 
so she had something to talk about and 
something to tell you when you met her. 

I once paid a visit to a farmhouse which 
stood well back from the road, in a rather 
lonely situation. The daughter of the house 
was named Hattie. Her mother had long 
been an invalid, chained to her couch ; her 
father was a disappointed man, to whom 
the world had not been kind. There was a 
good deal of anxiety about ways and means, 
and often, I have no doubt, it was quite a 
problem in that home how to make ends 
meet ; how to present a good appearance to 
the public ; how to so turn the old gown 
that it should look fresh. 

But Hattie was equal to any emergency. 
Her pastor's wife said of her to me : "We 



The Daughter at Home. 103 

all turn instinctively to that young girl ; she 
might be called not only the daughter of the 
home, but the daughter of the village, she 
has so much common sense, amiability, and 
readiness of resource. In a word, this girl 
was possessed of personal magnetism, and 
of the delightful quality of all others, which 
makes life agreeable, namely charm. 

Two very different types of girlhood are 
frequently contrasted in our large city shops. 
Before the counter, her hands dainty, her 
pocket-book filled with money, her dress 
like the lilies of the field, stands the girl 
who has only to express a wish to have it 
granted, who daily eats the best food, sleeps 
on a soft bed, and enjoys outdoor exercise 
and a change of scene till her bright eyes 
and clear color testify to her perfect health 
and vigor. 

The young woman behind the counter is 
often very different in appearance from the 
other; no wonder, — she stands on her feet 
for hours at a time, she must be alert, accu- 
rate, and accommodating, or she will not 
please customers, and if she fails here, she 
will lose her position. Her home is hum- 
ble, it is often far from comfortable, she 
shares her bed w r ith a sister or a child, the 
bedroom is the middle one in a tenement, 
dark and stuffy, and neither fresh air nor full 
sunshine visit it. When her work is over 
for the day she goes out to walk in the near- 
est park, and there is no pleasant place at 



104 The Art of Being Agreeable, 

home where she may sit and entertain a 
caller, or enjoy peace and rest after the day's 
work. 

Of course this is not true of all sales- 
women, nor of all working girls. It is true 
of many. There came to my notice lately 
the story of one girl, who toiled all day in 
a store, and in addition paid the rent of a 
flat in which she and her mother lived, by 
acting as janitress for the building. Her 
mother was an invalid, and her salary was 
so small that it would not cover rent as well 
as food and medicine. So every morning 
this girl rose at four o'clock, swept and 
scrubbed and scoured the stairs and halls, 
and every evening she hurried home from 
her work to do what she could for her moth- 
er, to light the lamps in her room and the 
gas in halls, and the day between these 
duties she passed in service at a notion 
counter. 

A notion counter, you know, is one where 
you buy pins, needles, buttons, hooks and 
eyes, tape, elastic, furnishings for a work- 
basket, corset laces, shoe strings, small 
wares of all sorts. Don't you think it won- 
derful that a girl as tired as this one often 
was, should have gone through the hours 
of waiting on customers, maintaining amia- 
bility and politeness, and always bearing 
herself with sweetness and gentleness? 
Sometimes we lose patience with those who 
serve us. If we could put ourselves in 



The Daughter at Home. 105 

their places we should learn that they are 
handicapped in this and the other way, so 
that it is by no means easy for them to be 
entirely polite. 

Still, some of us have suffered at times 
from the indifference, the stony coldness, 
and the carelessness of our wishes, shown 
by saleswomen, and there are certain estab- 
lishments we avoid because of the haughty 
deportment of the women employed. 
There cannot always be a reason in the 
background for the ill-behavior of these 
young people ; it must be habit, and lack 
of conscience toward their employers and 
of responsibility in their spheres of useful- 
ness. We owe it to them as well as to our- 
selves, to insist courteously upon our rights ; 
and to hold them to the fulfilment of their 
obligation. 

What we need is the spirit of sisterly 
friendship, making each in her place con- 
siderate of every other, drawing each to the 
other in tender sympathy. When we pray, 
let us pray to lose no opportunity of doing 
good, in any humble way that may open 
to us ; let us try in Christ's name to do the 
best that we can for all Christ's own, where- 
ever they may wander. 

I found the following bit tucked in a lady's 
sewing-basket, cut from her weekly religious 
paper, I quote it here, and thus pass it along 
as a suggestive word for mothers and girls. 

<< < Why don't you let Helen do that sew- 



io6 The Art of Being Agreeable. 

ing? ' I said to my wearied friend, who 
was nodding over a bit of mending. 
' Surely she knows how to mend a plain 
garment like that.' 

" ' She never has learned to sew/ was the 
reply. ' She is always busy with her books, 
and I hate to worry her. She will have a 
hard enough time by and by. I mean to 
make her life as easy as I can while she is 
with me/ 

It was so with the dish-washing, the bed- 
making, the cooking. ' Helen doesn't like 
to do this, that, or the other. She is out with 
her friends. She is reading. She is tired. 
I don't like to make a drudge of her. I 
don't wish her hands to look like mine/ 
These were some of the sayings of the mis- 
taken mother as apologies for the fact that 
Helen never helped in household affairs 
though there was no servant. Poor Helen ! 
I pitied her from my heart. She was learning 
algebra and geometry, French and Latin, 
but was deprived of the sweet lessons in 
loving help, self-denial, womanliness, and 
thoughtfulness that only a mother can give 
in the school of home. Helen was listless, 
idle, thoughtless, except in school, depend- 
ent upon others for the service that every 
woman should know how to perform. 

"What of Helen's future home and the 
husband whose life she would largely make 
or mar ? What of the possible children whose 
teacher and trainer she must be ? The un- 



The Daughter at Home. 107 

trained girl finds endless difficulties before 
her when she is at last separated from the 
mother who has waited on her from baby- 
hood. She has no skill, no deftness, no 
pleasure in duties for which she is utterly- 
unprepared. The smallest service seems 
irksome." 



108 The Art of Being Agreeable, 



WHEN WE GO VISITING. 

Old-fashioned people remember a form of 
social visiting- which is almost done away 
with in our large cities, though it still lin- 
gers, I hope, in country places. It used 
to be customary for a lady to send in the 
morning a little son or daughter with a pleas- 
ant verbal invitation which ran in this 
wise, the child going perhaps to a half- 
dozen friends. Rarely was anything so for- 
mal as a note needed for this pleasant and 
informal courtesy. 

When the door was opened to admit its 
round and smiling face, the child would say, 
" Mother says will you all kindly come and 
take tea with her this afternoon (orto-morrow 
afternoon whichever day was preferred'), and 
meet Cousin Mary, who is paying her a 
visit." The less formal asking was for the 
same day. The more ceremonious would 
indicate the later day. 

The ladies would arrive very soon after 
an early dinner, at least as early as three 
o'clock, four or five o'clock being considered 
entirely too late for sociability. They 
would bring their fancy work or their knit- 
ting, in pretty silk bags. Sometimes one 



When we go Visiting. 109 

lady would have on her arm a beautiful and 
elaborately beaded bag- which was a family 
heirloom, and sometimes the work wa? sim- 
ply — if too large for ordinary wrapping- — 
brought in a great roll or bundle, as for 
instance, when a woman had on hand a 
rug which she was anxious to finish, and 
which she even carried to her neighbor's 
house. As a rule, however, the work 
brought would be trifling and of a kind to 
occupy the fingers without needing too much 
attention, and eyes and tongue would be 
left free for pleasant chat and the friendly 
gossip of the neighborhood. 

The table would have been set with the 
best china before the visitors came, cakes, 
golden-brown or rich with fruit, were ready 
iced and ornamented, in the pantry. There 
w 7 ould be ham cut in thin slices, delicious 
chicken, several kinds of preserves and 
pickles, the whitest of bread, and the richest 
of cream ; and just before tea time the lady 
of the house would slip out from parlor to 
kitchen, mix with fairylike swiftness her 
favorite style of quick biscuits, pop them 
into the oven, and presto ! they would come 
out puffs of snowy whiteness, wonderful to 
behold and melting in the mouth. And all 
would be done like magic, so easily, so 
smoothly, and with the minimum of fuss. 

About supper time husbands and brothers 
would arrive, the ladies would roll up and 
put away their work, and a merry company 



no The Art of Being Agreeable. 

would gather around the festive board. 
Usually, the daughters of the house would 
assist about the waiting on the table, and, if 
there happened to be no domestic, some of 
the guests would insist upon helping to clear 
away the meal after it was finished. But 
this was not to be thought of and usually 
the dishes were piled up and left until the 
evening was at an end, or very likely the 
best china and the old and prized silver 
were simply set aside to be taken care of 
the next morning. The hostess in a digni- 
fied manner, gave her whole attention to 
her guests, as fashion required. 

If one lady gave such a tea party as this 
it would be followed by another, until every- 
one in the neighborhood had had her turn, 
and so the pleasant intercourse went on. 
Many a betrothal was talked over at these 
parties, many a good thing was set in 
train, and, notwithstanding a contrary opin- 
ion there was very little of either malicious 
or unkind censure ever expressed in these 
delightful rural companies. 

I think that neighborliness was better un- 
derstood once than it now is, and yet I am 
sure that we are still willing to go to the 
aid of our friends when sickness comes to 
their homes ; that we care when they 
have joys ; and that in one way or another 
people who grow up in the same community 
learn to know one another's faces and care 
about one another's interests. 



When we go Visiting, 1 1 1 

Tarrying* a few summers ago in a moun- 
tain town of New York, I saw how every- 
body was interested and delighted in a cer- 
tain wedding. The young ladies of the 
place came and decorated the house with 
flowers, and every detail of the bride's dress 
and every hour of her happy day was re- 
garded with interest by the entire village 
from the oldest inhabitant to the youngest 
child. 

But this is a digression. We were won- 
dering whether it is an improvement that 
the old-fashioned simplicity of our lives has 
given place in these latter days to something 
requiring less trouble of preparation, and 
which in its simplest form is perhaps a good 
innovation — the ordinary afternoon tea. 
Some of us think the change a most desira- 
ble one. There are teas and teas, how- 
ever. When a hostess simply asks a few 
dear friends to drop in at five o'clock and 
take a cup of tea with her ; when she con- 
fines her refreshments to thin bread and 
butter, or small cakes or crackers with the 
tea; and her daughter or a niece or girl 
friend, perhaps a maid, helps her to serve her 
guests, the whole thing being entirely in- 
formal, there is no great tax by way of 
preparation and there is much enjoyment. 

Unfortunately, some afternoon teas are, 
frankly, large and formal receptions, to 
which crowds of people who do not know 
each other go ; where there is perhaps a 



H2 The Art of Being Agreeable. 

band of music, or, at least, an orchestra 
hidden behind portieres ; where you cannot 
hear yourself speak, because there is such a 
chorus of shrill, almost screaming, voices; 
where you simply touch the hand of your 
hostess and say a pleasant word and pass 
on, and then do not see her again until you 
leave, when you have the same brief greet- 
ing. This sort of thing has in it very little 
that is satisfying to the soul. 

It is the same with visiting. One used to 
go for a leisurely visit to a friend and imme- 
diately become a part of the household life. 
In the morning the visiting lady would sit 
in the kitchen and help her hostess in the 
preparation of a meal. She would perhaps 
ask for the mending-basket and give the 
tired mother a lift about the little socks and 
aprons. In one or another way, her com- 
ing would be a great relief to the house- 
mother. 

In my own childhood I recollect a dear lit- 
tle lady who used periodically to come and 
see us, rarely sending us word beforehand, 
but suddenly appearing at our door like an 
angel in a brown dress, staying as long as she 
wished, and always going away very much 
missed and lamented. There was nothing 
she did not take part in, from helping the 
children study their lessons to assisting in 
whatever entertainments were going on at 
the church, or in whatever branch of activity 
the friends of the house felt an interest. 



When we go Visiting. 113 

As things are managed now, it is not well 
for anybody to make a surprise visit. In- 
deed the agreeable person may make it her 
rule ; once for all, that she will not surprise 
her own mother or her own sister, but will 
send word definitely if she is planning a 
visit, telling precisely what train she will 
take and at what hour she is to be met, and 
then punctiliously arriving on time. 

The lady who wishes to invite a friend, in 
these days, is careful to mention the length 
of the visit expected, saying, "My dear 
Susie, or Jennie : Will you give me the 
great pleasure of your company from Friday 
afternoon until Tuesday morning next?" 
This puts things on a proper footing, so that 
one knows precisely what is expected of her 
and can arrange other engagements accord- 
ingly. 

There are little things which one does 
well to remember when she pays a visit. 
One is that at certain periods she would 
best efface herself and remain away from 
the family work and the family care, be- 
cause all households like at times to be 
alone. She will not criticise the manners 
of the children nor call attention to any 
little defect which she may see, as I 
heard the other day of a very rude guest's 
doing-. 

This guest, in the presence of half a dozen 
people, said to a little boy of the house 
where she was being entertained, " Freddie 
8 



114 The Art of Being Agreeable. 

dear, if your mother has not time to keep 
the buttons on your shoes, you come to my 
room and I will sew them on for you/' 
This was simply an unpardonable piece of 
interference on the part of a stranger within 
the gates, who should be blind and deaf to 
everything that is not quite as it should be. 
And whose offers of assistance should not 
imply an unfavorable comment. 

The really agreeable person makes it her 
rule never to make any unkind comments, 
never to see anything that is not up to the 
mark, never to hear anything that was not 
intended for her ; and when she leaves a 
home where she has had the honor of being 
entertained, she remembers that by no pos- 
sibility must she converse with friends about 
anything unpleasant which may have hap- 
pened in her presence. 

If her friends house is ill-kept, or her 
friend's husband is cross, or her friend's 
children are ill-behaved ; if the dinner was 
not good or was badly served ; if, in short, 
anything failed to reach a faultless stand- 
ard, no sensible or well-bred guest will so 
much as whisper this in the privacy of her 
chamber to her other self. Honor requires 
that we say only kind things of those who 
have entertained us. 

A guest in these days, and in all days, 
should keep her room in some degree of 
order while she remains in possession ; it 
should not look as if a cyclone had struck 



When we go Visiting. 1 1 5 

it. On the other hand, she is not expected 
to take care of the room if there are do- 
mestics whose business it is to do this. She 
can very easily observe what would be the 
best thing in the circumstances and con- 
form her course accordingly. 

The best thing we can give our friends 
by way of entertainment is not a weary 
round of amusement, nor even a constant 
progression of picnics and excursions ; to 
admit them to the life of the family, to give 
them the feeling of being entirely at home, 
taken care of and not neglected, is the very 
height of modern hospitality. 

The entrance of a guest should not greatly 
disturb the ordinary routine of a house ; nor 
should it be considered necessary when a 
visitor comes to stay for a prolonged time 
in the home to take her somewhere every day, 
to send Jane to sit with her while Ellen is 
busy, or in any way to make her feel that she 
is an encumbrance or an interference. Usu- 
ally, the very fact of being under another 
roof, of being in a different town and among 
different friends, is in itself a solace and a 
delight to a visitor. 

It is polite always beforehand to tell one's 
circle that a friend from another place is 
coming, and to specify some hours when it 
will be agreeable to have them call upon 
her. In these days we often give a recep- 
tion to a friend, inviting all those to meet 
her who would like to touch her hand or 



Ii6 The Art of Being Agreeable, 

look into her face ; or perhaps to the more 
intimate ones we give a little dinner or an 
evening, putting the guest in the place of 
honor, and in ever}^ way showing how 
proud we are that we have her with us. 

The guest should then herself be as enter- 
taining and as gracious as possible. She 
should be willing to return the calls that are 
made upon her, and she should not over- 
look any courtesy shown or trouble taken in 
her behalf even by the most obscure among 
the friends of her hostess. 

Times change, and modes of hospitality 
change, but the spirit of true hospitality is 
the same as it was in the dajrs when Abra- 
ham sat at the door of his tent and saw 
two weary men coming up the road, who 
proved to be angels unawares. 

The presence of an outsider in the house 
has a certain tonic effect upon every one. 
We are a little more careful about our man- 
ners ; we are a little more careful what we 
do and say. I remember lately to have 
read a very suggestive book in which the 
writer told how he had had a dream in 
which our Lord Himself came and dwelt in 
his household as a guest of the home. In- 
stantly there was a different feeling about 
everything ; the children ceased to bicker 
and quarrel ; the wife curbed a certain im- 
patience ; the husband restrained a spirit of 
fan lt-fin ding — the whole family lived on a 
higher plane, and there were many things 



When we go Visiting. 1 1 7 

which they had hitherto done which they 
did not like to do when our Lord was there 
to see them. There were many things which 
they said of old which seemed no longer 
appropriate. 

Can we not feel that our Lord is always 
our guest ; have we no room for Hirn in our 
hearts and in our homes ? And this being 
so, shall we not day by day tone up our 
lives in such a way that we would be glad 
and not sorrowful if He should come in 
person and knock at our doors? Then, 
too, shall we not feel that all our earthly 
friendships are hallowed because Christ is 
invisibly present at every meal, that the 
smallest and most common meal is a feast 
and indeed a sacrament because He hallows 
it, and that we can have no friendships 
worth the having unless they are Christian 
friendships sanctified by the one bond which 
unites families in heaven and on earth ? 



n8 The Art of Bei?ig Agreeable. 



IN CO-OPERATIVE HOUSEKEEPING. 

Mrs. Emma J. Gray, writing in Harper s 
Bazar, told the story of family co-operative 
housekeeping so pleasantly, that, I am sure, 
no one can fail to be entertained by an 
experiment which was so successful in its 
accomplishment. 

It is a popular fallacy that relatives can- 
not comfortably live together — that if the 
household must comprise more than one 
family, by all means have the other families 
strangers ; last of all, near of kin. But in 
the city of New York one member of a large 
family said to another : ' ' Let us try co-opera- 
tive housekeeping, " which they successfully 
did. 

These relatives were a mother and her 
bachelor brother, both advanced in years, a 
young lady daughter and two young men 
sons; a married daughter and her husband ; 
a younger married daughter, her husband, 
and her four-year-old son. These people 
lived co-operatively for several years, in the 
meantime saving a large sum of money for 
each family. But, what was of far greater 
importance, they were able to state, when 
some of the family were obliged to live out- 



In Co-operative Housekeeping. 119 

of-town, and therefore broke up the associa- 
tion, that " throughout the years of our co- 
operativeness not one unpleasant conversa- 
tion has occurred. There have been differ- 
ences of opinion, but no friction; none of 
the jars that sometimes come between 
mother-in-law and sons-in-law ; between 
sisters-in-law and brothers-in-law. Indeed, 
if it were possible, we love each other more 
than ever." 

It was a delight to visit their home — a de- 
light almost equally noted by the stranger- 
guest and the long-time friend. The warm- 
est hospitality was offered. There was no 
uncertain welcome. During the years many 
and varied were the entertainments given ; 
social functions of all sorts were fulfilled, 
such as evening and day receptions, dinners 
and luncheons — indeed, the many complex 
duties as well as pleasures devolving upon 
the up-to-date, all-around New York woman. 

Below is a schedule of their household 
economy, and any co-operative household 
may follow it without the least anxiety to 
the smallest minimum. The only change 
necessary would be to divide the expenses 
and work according to the number compris- 
ing the particular family. 

As in this household the mother was not 
allowed to be fatigued, she was counted out 
of all anxiety, worry and work. She, how- 
ever, paid her part of the expenses. All the 
rest of what it means to keep house was as- 



120 The Art of Being Agreeable, 

sumed by her daughters. The letters ABC 
will indicate the three families. A's family, 
the mother, bachelor brother, young lady 
daughter, and two young men sons ; B, a 
daughter and her husband ; C, a daughter, 
her husband, and little boy. They kept one 
maid ; therefore the family in all numbered 
eleven people. 

The greatest difficulty was the obtaining 
of a house with a sufficient number of sleep- 
ing-apartments, enough parlor-rooms, and 
in a convenient location. But such a one 
was found. The house had three parlors, 
so that several sets of guests could be enter- 
tained at one time without interfering with 
one another. It was situated in a good, if 
not an aristocratic, neighborhood, very con- 
venient to business, and within five minutes' 
w r alk of the elevated railroad station and 
three surface lines of cars ; also, but a short 
walk from the Metropolitan Museum in Cen- 
tral Park. The rent was eleven hundred 
dollars. 

PERCENTAGE OF RENT. 

A 461, per month=$42 26 

B. 256, " " = 2347 

C 283, " " = 2594 

Total amount per month = $91 67 

Multiplying $91 67 by twelve, so obtain- 
ing the amount for one year, $110004 is 
found, which, minus the four cents, gives 



In Co-operative Hottsekeeping. 121 

the exact rent. The rent could not be deter- 
mined with greater accuracy, and whoever 
paid the extra four cents one year did not 
have to do it the next. 

The expenses of the house were divided 
into two classes. Of the first class each 
bore one-third of the expense. 

Class I. — Fuel, ice, replacing broken crock- 
ery, and buying extra pieces ; house-fur- 
nishing, such as brooms, tins, pots, towels, 
etc. ; servant's wages, extra help, laundry, 
furnace, street-cleaning, etc. 

Of the other class each bore a fractional 
part, as defined. 

Class II — Gas, table supplies, the serv- 
ant's living expenses and wages, were di- 
vided into four parts, of which C took two, 
one for the little boy, thus paying his ex- 
penses. A took one part, and B took one 
part. When the little boy was away each 
bore one-third of the servant's expenses, in- 
stead of one-fourth as when the child was at 
home. 

The whole amount of table supplies was 
divided between the number of people at 
home, including the servant. Each paid as 
many times the quotient as he or she formed 
parts of the whole. When one of the family 
was away, the head of that section, whether 
A, B, or C, had one less share to pay of the 
weekly expenses, and so on as the family 
decreased. When all were on a vacation 
the head of the family paid one-third of the 



122 The Art of Being Agreeable. 

servant's wages, one-third of the servant's 
or one person's share, one-third of the fuel 
consumed. A's share was five people plus 
the servant, therefore A's share numbered 
five and one-fourth. B's share was two 
people plus the servant, which equalled two 
and one-fourth. C's share numbered her- 
self, her husband, and little son, plus the 
servant. And as one-fourth was allowed 
for the child, and one-fourth for the servant, 
C's share was two and one-half. The gas 
bill was paid in the same proportion. 

But there were many extras. Example : 
cigars, table waters, anything exclusively 
used; special entertainment as dinners and 
luncheons. These were paid for by the party 
entertaining or consuming the same. 

When guests came for a week or more, 
such guests practically became members of 
the household, and A, B, or C added one to 
the number of the immediate family. Gen- 
eral company was not reckoned for at all, 
because such company belonged as much 
to A as to B or to C. 

Meals were served promptly, the hours be- 
ing indicated in each sleeping-apartment. A 
half hour leeway was allowed, but any per- 
son coming later found the dining-room 
locked. The person could gain entrance 
and have special service, but for the same 
he was fined ten cents. The total amount 
received in this way at the end of each year 
was devoted to charity. 



In Co-operative Housekeeping. 123 

As necessary as is the adjustment of 
finances is the adjustment of work. Labor, 
whether physical or mental, should justly fall 
on each housekeeper. The question ofjus- 
tice is usually a question of conscience. In 
this household there were the mother, who 
was not allowed to assume care, and the 
young lady sister,who seemed far too near 
the golden glory of life's morning to be tried 
with the many vexations that come soon 
enough as life goes on. But, nevertheless, 
the young sister had an important duty ta 
perform. She was responsible for the 
marketing through the entire year. When 
she went on her vacation, whichever one of 
her sisters had the least at the time to attend 
to took her place. But the young lady did 
not herself decide on market necessities ; the 
sister then the housekeeper gave her a 
list of what was required. The young lady 
had no' responsibility beyond buying the 
desired articles. This she conscientiously 
did, not only buying the best groceries and 
meats, but obtaining such at the lowest 
figures. Besides the marketing, she was 
also responsible for her mother's, uncles', 
and brothers' sleeping-apartments, and as- 
sisted either of her sisters when requested. 

The sister known throughout this paper 
as C was the bookkeeper. The necessity 
for accuracy in the keeping of such accounts 
made this task anything but a sinecure. And 
yet there was much gratification in seeing 



124 The Art of Being Agreeable, 

just how money was spent. All the rest of 
the housekeeping was divided between B 
and C, and everything seemed to move upon 
oiled wheels ; not a discordant sound was 
heard. If they had annoyances, as they 
doubtless did, they were wise enough to 
keep them from being discovered. Indeed, 
it is doubtful if in the entire city a more 
thoroughly happy home could have been 
found. 

A youthful matron lately said : "If expe- 
rienced housekeepers would only honestly 
tell their methods, what an assistance they 
would be ! The trouble is there is so much 
mere talk, and housekeepers don't always 
care to make full confession. They would 
rather keep a little back, lest the world 
should think ill of their various economies." 

Altruism surely belongs in the home, 
though of necessity its limit does not end 
there. And altruism must always abound 
in its utmost sense if co-operative house- 
keeping is to be a success. 

It has so often been asserted that no house 
is large enough to shelter two families, that 
it is interesting to read about one which 
made a success of combining the constituent 
parts of several in one amiable association. 
I have watched the course of a set of friends 
of my own, three or four youthful married 
pairs, who joined their forces, took a large 
and convenient dwelling, paid their share 
of all expenses, and found it practicable to 



In Co-operative Housekeeping. 125. 

be easy if not rich on a narrow income. 
Each matron kept house a month in her 
turn, and the result was a large amount of 
liberty, an elegant style of living, comfortable 
furniture, a nice and well-appointed table 
and many luxuries, at a cost less than each 
couple would have paid in boarding, and 
at the same time with — in the use of a com- 
mon parlor and separate suites of living 
rooms — as much dignity as appertains to 
housekeeping. 

Only people of congenial tastes and a 
standard of expenditure approximately 
similar can with any hope of success, 
engage in such an enterprise as this. One 
disagreeable person might not wreck the 
peace of the whole, but he or she would 
mar it, and two or three would be fatal. 
To bear and forbear in co-operative family 
life is imperative, unless it shall prove a 
failure. 

In order to facilitate the work of a large 
family, and to avoid friction in the kitchen, 
which has been called the heart of the house, 
the different members must conform to 
previously decided upon rules. Hours for 
meals must be selected and observed. 
Punctual attendance at breakfast and din- 
ner ensures the orderly routine of work for 
the day ; while little delays, five minutes here, 
a quarter of an hour there, put everything 
in confusion and wreck the best-laid plans. 
The transgressor in punctuality can never 



126 The Art of Being Agreeable, 

he agreeable in the true sense of the word, 
for he is essentially a marplot, causing a 
break in the sequence of affairs and making 
trouble all along the line, as if one train 
should lose time on the schedule, and throw 
out a dozen others. 

Edward Everett Hale, whose true insight 
is that of a seer, in one of his stories, shows 
us a lady momentarily hesitating in a 
Boston street car, and causing twenty peo- 
ple or more the loss of precisely two min- 
utes. She never discovers it, but years after, 
her fortune gone, her whole environment 
changed, the poor lady becomes a beneficiary 
in an Old Ladies' Home, all because she 
once vacillated in the choice of a shop at 
which to buy cap ribbons, and her delay 
blocked the plans of a great many people. 
For, lo ! we are all bound in one bundle 
and no man liveth and no man dieth to him- 
self alone. 



When Fortune Favors, 127 



WHEN FORTUNE FAVORS. 

To be light of heart and cheery of mien 
when fortune favors, seems no great matter ; 
most people fancy, especially when they are 
poor and distressed for money, that they 
could be very good-tempered and quite 
delightful if only they had a long purse and 
a good bank account. I am sure we have 
many friends and acquaintances who think 
that wealth would bring them great happi- 
ness, and that calamity and disaster would 
flee if only they had a gold mine to fall 
back upon. Look at the craze for the Cali- 
fornia gold-fields in '49 ; look at the mad 
rush to Klondyke now. "When fortune 
favors," we cry, "then indeed we will look 
out upon life, and behold everything in cou- 
leur de rose." 

Yet, quite recently, in his splendid Re- 
cessional ode published immediately after 
the conclusion of Queen Victoria's Diamond 
Jubilee, the gifted author, Rudyard Kipling, 
struck a true and deep note. Intended for 
a lofty national occasion, there is still a 
word of warning to us in our private and 
personal capacities, for God's word says to 
every heart, "In the day of prosperity be 



128 The Art of Being Agreeable, 

joyful, but in the day of adversity consider.'' 
We are apt to be selfishly joyful, when 
everything is well with us ; and trouble, like 
the storm-wind, drives us home to God. 

" Lord God of hosts, be with us yet, 
Lest we forget— -lest we forget." 

was the burden of Mr. Kipling's solemn 
poem. In our time of prosperity, we need 
to lay to heart the lesson that riches are 
only sent to us in trust, and that we must 
one day give an account of our stewardship. 
To be agreeable when one has nothing to 
be worried over, requires an amount of 
strength of mind and of true nobility which 
is not the natural endowment of any- 
body, and this is particularly true when 
wealth is not inherited, but is the accumu- 
lation of shrewd calculation, and fierce 
resolution to win its trophies. Many a 
man declares that if he shall ever have a 
million, two millions or more, he will be one 
of the most liberal givers in the world. But, 
he does not always carry out his determi- 
nation. I have often met paupers who wore 
purple and fine linen and fared sumptuously 
every day ; paupers, for they were poor in 
heart and sordid of hand ; they spent only 
for their own desires and gave as the churl 
gives, grudgingly, to all good causes. "A 
single million/' said a daintily dressed 
woman at an elegant luncheon, " why that 
is only genteel poverty.'' 



When Fortune Favors. 129 

If we would bear ourselves with irre- 
proachable dignity and real generosity, if we 
would be truly and in the best sense of the 
word agreeable, when fortune favors, we 
must regard money as an opportunity, and 
its right disbursement as a rare privilege. 
Our constant feeling must be voiced by the 
familiar hymn, 

" A charge to keep I have, 

A God to glorify, 
A never-dying soul to save, 
And fit it for the sky. 

To serve the present age, 

My calling to fulfil ; 
O may it all my powers engage 

To do my Master's will ! 

Arm me with jealous care 

As in thy sight to live; 
And O thy servant, Lord, prepare 

A strict account to give! " 

Acting on the two strongest lines in that 
hymn, " To serve the present age," and "A 
strict account to give," some of the rich 
Christian men and women of our day, are 
dispensing their fortunes so wisely and so 
freely that they send forth rills of blessing 
in many directions. One woman supports 
here and yonder, in different cities, free 
Kindergartens which gather in the small 
children in our cities, and taking them from 
the streets, start them in paths of usefulness 
and honor. Another supports in Europe, 
9 



130 The Art of Being Agreeable. 

gifted and talented young- people who are 
studying music and painting, putting in 
their hands weapons and tools, by which 
they may fight or may carve their way to 
independence. Yet a third has in this and 
the other college scholarships, which en- 
able worthy and struggling young people 
to gain a liberal education. A fourth makes 
of her home a radiant social centre wmere 
people come together, talk, enjoy them- 
selves, are rested and refreshed. Such using 
of wealth proves that one knows how to 
make the most of a talent committed by 
God to his hands. 

No agreeable man or woman can for an 
instant be so indelicate as to flourish his 
wealth or hers in the face of a poorer friend. 
No agreeable person will, for instance, com- 
ment on the inevitable deficiencies in the 
establishment or the wardrobe of one less 
fortunate. In every practicable way the 
agreeable rich person keeps the accident of 
his means in the background when in soci- 
ety with those whose means are narrower, 
though socially they are equals. Wealth 
means, if you please, luxury, opportunity to 
travel, the choice of many pleasures and 
diversions, which you may, if you choose, 
gracefully share with friends, but on which 
you must not plume yourself. When the 
question of relative values comes up for final 
decision, many a poverty-stricken rich man 
may bewail the blindness with which he 



When Fortune Favors. 131 

fancied that mere gew-gaws had worth be- 
yond the sheen and tinsel of the moment. 
Bunyan's man with the muck rake, indus- 
triously gathering up sticks and straws, and 
indifferent to a celestial crown, which he 
never lifted his eyes to observe, is a case in 
point. 

When fortune favors, let us take advantage 
of the flowing tide to make our homes as 
attractive as we may both indoors and out. 
Now is the time to surround ourselves with 
curios from the East and the West, with 
rugs from Damascus and Jerusalem, with 
marbles from Italy, with beautiful paintings, 
exquisite china and all the books we can 
afford. One of the most obvious duties for 
an agreeable man of means is to become a 
discriminating patron of the arts, buying 
judiciously, adorning his house, making in 
it a picture gallery or a library, and in one 
way or another aiding those who are less 
well supplied with ducats in the one possi- 
ble and sensible fashion open to him, by 
creating a market for their wares. The au- 
thor and the artist do not, as in good Sam 
Johnson's and Oliver Goldsmith's day, find 
a rich patron who becomes an actual spon- 
sor for their works, but rich men are in duty 
bound to extend patronage to genius by the 
simple method of buying what genius pro- 
duces. 

Freedom from grinding care, leisure for 
travel, a respite from incessant toil, ought 



132 The Art of Being Agi-eeable. 

to make us very thankful, and very solici- 
tous to be sweet and gracious and boun- 
tiful. Many such sweet and gracious and 
bountiful people I know to w 7 hom money 
is God's recognized gift, and they are dearly 
beloved and highly honored in proportion 
as they use the gift aright. 

Says Bishop Thorold : "If the first thing 
about money is to get it, the second is to keep 
it. And it is not so easy to keep it. Most 
people have some sort of screw loose in their 
private money matters. Either they invest 
it foolishly, or they spend it w T astefully ; or, 
what is almost the worst possible thing to 
do with it, they hoard it covetously ; and 
either way, it is their Lord's money hidden 
down in the earth, instead of being put out 
to use for Him. 

11 The investment of money is just one of 
those questions w r hich it is real wisdom to 
think over very carefully, till our mind is 
made up about it ; and then, when once set- 
tled, it should be put away upon a shelf, to 
be left there. Money, like every other tal- 
ent, is to be made the most of; and it is our 
duty to see that we do make the most of it, 
or it is w T orth just so much less, both for our 
own use, and our power of sharing it with 
others. 

"Few things require more pains, show 
more character, or earn more results than the 
expenditure of money for household necessi- 
ties. Several points strike one here as indis- 



When Fortune Favo?'s. 133 

putable, but singular. How much more 
some people spend on mere eating and drink- 
ing than others. How this is true, not only 
of navvies, and pitmen, and artisans, but of 
persons of all ranks and circumstances. 
How apt such persons are to complain of 
their poverty, and that they never have 
money for anything else. How easily such 
luxuries come to be looked upon as the in- 
dispensable necessaries of life. How the 
simpler and more frugal people, who would 
equally like them, but go without them, be- 
cause other things seem to come first, never 
get credit for their thriftiness, but are as- 
sumed not to mind about them. How little 
any one gets for his money spent this way, 
except dyspepsia and a habit of self-indulg- 
ence. How quite the worst and silliest way 
of spending money is to eat and drink it. 

"But our household expenditure means 
other possibilities of extravagance than those 
of food. Costly changes in furniture, not 
for being worn out, but for being old-fash- 
ioned ; what is called ' stylish living/ so 
often the pretentious vulgarity of pseudo 
gentle-people, and so miserably and de- 
servedly failing in procuring the considera- 
tion it spends so much to buy ; an expensive 
way of entertaining, which gratifies nobody 
but the tradesmen who supply the goods ; 
servants simply to minister to laziness ; and 
incessant goings to and fro to this place or 
that, merely because home is dull : these 



134 The Art of Being Agreeable, 

are items of expense which swell the house 
bills of many a quiet family, with little in 
return but constant mortification, and the 
pressure of debt. 

"Lord Bacon, in his Essay on Expense, 
clearly points out that c he that is plentiful 
in expense of all kinds will hardly be pre- 
served from decay.' While one hobby, judi- 
ciously and moderately indulged, can hardly 
hurt a poor man, half a dozen may make 
a bankrupt of a rich one. That idiosyn- 
crasies of expense have, on the whole, been 
beneficial to society, needs no arguing ; since 
but for the costly enthusiasm of private, 
and sometimes eccentric, collectors, there 
would be none of those accumulations of art 
and books and sculpture, that give all classes 
a share in the enjoyment of their wealthier 
neighbors, and sow broadcast the fruitful 
seed of many a lofty thought and noble pro- 
duction. This, too, is certain : that pictures, 
plate, marqueterie, china, or vertu of any 
kind, when really good of its sort, is a valu- 
able investment if you can wait for your in- 
terest ; to buy well, even if you pay highly. 

"To have just enough, and to know that it 
is enough, and to be thankful for it — this is 
the secret which the Gospel long ago pro- 
claimed to mankind, but which the wisdom 
of this world rejects with scorn. Yet to 
suppose that a modest competence, such as 
modern times would call utter poverty, has 
no real charms or vivid enjoyments of its 



When Fortune Favors. 135 

own, is a profound mistake. It is full of 
joy, though of the simplest and purest kind. 
Let some of us middle-aged people, who, 
after twenty or thirty years' hard work, have 
a little more to live upon than when we first 
started (though, indeed, we have very much 
more to do with it), look back to the days, 
long ago, when, in a tiny house, and with 
simple furniture, and the whole world in 
front of us, domestic love sw T eetened every 
care of life. " 



136 The Art of Being Agreeable, 



WHEN TIMES ARE HARD. 

When times are hard people are apt to 
lose sight of the fact that material advantages 
are not the only ones which we ought to 
care for in this world. Retrenchment is 
never quite so pleasant as expansion, nor is 
poverty so delightful as wealth, but the old 
prayer remains a wise one for us all, "Give 
me neither poverty nor riches ; feed me with 
food convenient for me.'' 

Hard times are particularly trying to 
families which have not felt the pressure of 
want, and who have been accustomed to 
an easy and luxurious style of living. To 
move from a large house to a small one, to 
learn the fine art of doing without, and to 
hear quite near one's door the low growl 
of that wolf who is always anxious to put 
his head inside if he can, is not conducive 
to ease of mind and contentment of heart. 

Yet to those who have trodden its soil, 
the valley of humiliation has many lovely 
spots where the heartsease blooms and 
fragrant airs blow. The right way to feel 
about this is not that there is anything 
lowering in the accident of poverty, and 



When Times are Hard. 137 

that the day of small things is often the 
happiest day of one's life. 

In hard times, if the family love each 
other and cling together, the very children 
share the family spirit, are taken into the 
confidence of the parents, and rejoice at any 
opportunity they have to show how fond 
and dear their affection is and how much 
they can do to help along. 

I was greatly impressed in a visit which 
I once paid in a section of our country 
which is less easy and luxurious than it is 
around the larger cities, with the brave, 
self-respecting spirit of the young people 
and with the charming and gracious manner 
of the older ones. Everyone shared the 
housework, even the boys willingly taking 
a hand to help their mother and sisters. 

Certainly there is not a more beautiful sight 
under the blue canopy above us than that of a 
stalwart youth of seventeen or eighteen who 
comes jauntily into the kitchen where his 
sisters are ironing, and, after saying, "That 
work is too hard for you ; let me take a 
hand," actually begins ironing sheets and 
towels with the deftness of an accomplished 
laundryman. This sight is often seen in 
some New England farm houses of which 
I know. 

My regard for the manly young fellow 
who did this work in one instance was not 
lessened by the fact that he was an athlete, 
riding a wheel, plying an oar, trimming a 



138 The Art of Being Agreeable. 

sail and sitting a horse to perfection. Nor 
have I less respected certain plucky young- 
women whom I have seen during their sum- 
mer vacations utilizing the time which was 
theirs between terms by accepting service 
in summer hotels. " Do the next thynge" is 
a good rule for all of us. 

Some of the most satisfactory and agree- 
able weeks I have ever spent in my life 
have been in nooks in the Green Mountains 
or the White where all the waiters and 
waitresses at the tables were college 
students. A few summers back when stay- 
ing at a lovely hamlet by the sea in New 
Jersey some of my friends one day found 
that all the help in the Inn had suddenly 
decided to leave, so that the host was very 
much embarrassed, not knowing where to 
turn for immediate assistance. But he need 
not have been troubled. A bevy of young 
men, students at two of the finest colleges 
in the country, immediately tendered their 
services and for three days held the fort, 
performing all the duties which the waiters 
had done with an ease and celerity and dis- 
tinction of manner which was so delight- 
ful that the guests were sorry when the 
amateur waiters returned to private life and 
others of the regular profession came to 
take their places. 

When hard times come it is just as well to 
receive them in a spirit of brave and blithe 
heroism. One may always say to one's 



Whe?t Times are Hard. 139 

self, "After all, what does it matter whether 
I have a little more or a little less money, or 
what kind of house I live in, so long- as my 
dear ones are about me, so long as I have 
health and strength and pleasure in the things 
my eye sees and my ear hears?" 

A man many times a millionaire was 
looking out of the window of a tall building 
one day when he saw on the sidewalk below 
a porter carrying heavy bales and bundles 
into the shop. With a pathetic look, he 
turned to a friend and said: "All the gold 
I have accumulated, all the stocks and 
bonds, my whole fortune, I would willingly 
exchange for the muscles and sinews, the 
strength and vigor, of that man below." 
No doubt had the man looked up and known 
the condition of the one who was gazing at 
him from his vantage ground above, he 
would have sighed for the golden wealth. 
Yet it would have been a poor exchange 
for him. 

A few years ago there was a general feel- 
ing in the air that in times of family stress 
girls were of little use ; that they were simply 
ornamental members of the family, to be 
cared for and carried on ; and there was a 
sort of unspoken feeling that brothers must 
be prepared to take care of their sisters at 
all hazards. We often heard, for instance, 
of a brother who could not marry because 
he had to support several sisters who lived 
at home in ease if not in idleness. 



140 The Art of Being Agreeable. 

This has all been changed, and girls at 
an early age, if they do not go to college, 
assume, when there is need, some share in 
the expenses of the family. It is very un- 
common to find a young woman who keeps 
the money she earns exclusively for herself. 
Almost always some of it goes into the 
family exchequer, and her mother, in most 
cases, is the treasurer w r ho dispenses and 
dictates what shall be done with the earnings 
of the youthful daughter. 

Where there are several daughters, they 
speedily assume a share of the work and 
the cost of the household, and there is no 
longer a vision before us of a gray-haired 
father bowing painfully beneath the weight 
of a number of indolent young women, who 
instead are very proud to lend a helping hand. 
So, even if there come seasons of financial 
depression, there is no need on that account 
of our dispensing with the pleasant art of 
being agreeable. Rich people have no 
monopoly of that art. One finds it flourish- 
ing and beautiful in homes where money 
has little to do with the everyday pleasure. 

Of one thing we must be careful, and 
that is that when times are hard we suffer 
no false pride to make us try to keep up 
appearances and live beyond our income. 
In no country is there so much wasted as 
in ours, and nowhere else do people habit- 
ually spend more than they earn as they do 
with us. Half the trouble, half the heartache 



When Times are Hard. 141 

which we have to bear comes from the un- 
necessary strain of trying to make both 
ends meet when there is no possibility of 
their meeting. If we simply and frankly 
recognize the situation, accept the fact that 
we cannot live precisely as our neighbors 
do, if we have $1, 500 and they have $10,000 
a year, we shall then be saved from resort- 
ing to many a shameful expedient ; and 
above all we shall not bind our feet with 
the ball and chain of debt. 

To pay as one goes is the best wisdom. 
It is indeed hard for anyone to be very 
cheerful when there is always over one's 
head the menace of some bill which cannot 
be paid ; when, like Dick Swiveller, one 
dodges around corners to avoid meeting 
creditors until finally street after street is 
shut up so that he is forced to creep out of 
doors in the dark and to hide himself from 
the face of day. 

Far more sensible and much more coura- 
geous is the man or woman who decides 
upon a certain schedule of living and ad- 
heres to it. To do women justice, they are 
often kept in the dark as to the amount they 
have a right to spend, particularly if their 
husbands have not salaried occupations 
or a fixed income, and they are blamed 
for extravagance when they should simply 
be pitied for ignorance of the true state of 
affairs. 

Not infrequently the knowledge of a com- 



142 The Art of Being Agreeable. 

mon burden to bear, as when an entire 
family are endeavoring to pay off the debt 
which rests upon a home, or when each 
gladly does without that someone else in 
the household may be able to carry out a 
cherished project, draws the family lines 
closer, and the sense of brotherhood is 
greater because of the need which has made 
all one. 

It is never quite fair to let one person in the 
home monopolize all the ease while the 
others work too hard, yet this one sometimes 
sees. The selfish person is very apt to take 
advantage of the kindness shown him or her 
by others, and there is occasionally found one 
brother or sister who is perfectly willing to 
be carried along by the efforts of the rest 
without making the least endeavor on his 
own account. I have even known a hus- 
band who, belonging to the great army of 
the unsuccessful, contentedly suffered his 
wife to bear the burden which should have 
been put upon his stronger shoulders. 

Hard times are only driven away by united 
effort, united saving, and a common front 
to the foe. There is no particular use in 
believing in luck, because when you get to 
the last analysis there is no such thing as 
luck. There is such a thing as pluck, and 
pluck and perseverance together win the 
hardest battles in this world. May we not 
take to our hearts the thought which I hope 
you will find in this little poem ? 



When Times are Hard. 143 



THE SILENT MARCH. 

When the march begins in the morning 

And the heart and the foot are light, 
When the flags are all a-flutter 

And the world is gay and bright, 
When the bugles lead the column 

And the drums are proud in the van, 
It's shoulder to shoulder, forward, march 1 

Ah ! let him lag who can ! 

For it's easy to march to music 

With your comrades all in line, 
And you don't get tired, you feel inspired, 

And life is a draught divine. 

When the march drags on at evening 

And the color-bearer's gone, 
When the merry strains are silent 

That piped so brave in the dawn, 
When you miss the dear old fellows 

Who started out with you, 
When it's stubborn and sturdy, forward, march 

Though the ragged lines are few. 

Then it's hard to march in silence, 
And the road has lonesome grown, 

And life is a bitter cup to drink ; 
But the soldier must not moan. 

And this is the task before us, 

A task we may never shirk, 
In the gay time and the sorrowful time 

We must march and do our work. 
We must march when the music cheers us, 

March when the strains are dumb, 
Plucky and valiant, forward, march ! 

And smile, whatever may come. 

For whether life's hard or easy, 

The strong man keeps the pace, 
For the desolate march and the silent 

The strong soul finds the grace. 



144 The Art of Being Agreeable. 

A long period of unbroken prosperity is 
not always the best thing for the soul's 
growth. ' ' If God saw that we could be 
trusted with large possessions," said a wise 
man, " He would certainly give them to us, 
but He may see that we are only fit to carry 
on small concerns. 7 ' 

We very often say thoughtlessly that if we 
had this or that amount which has been 
denied us, we would be very generous and 
kind and altogether admirable. Do not let 
us deceive ourselves. People who are not 
agreeable in days of ill-fortune and disaster, 
people who are disagreeable when they have 
to fight with misfortune and poverty would 
probably be extremely arrogant and quite 
unbearable if they had large possessions. 

Wealth and poverty, after all, do not touch 
the real person. The man or the woman, 
the individual, is independent of such things 
as these, which will not go out of the world 
with us, and which will appear in their true 
light when we come to lay aside this body 
and to leave the tent in which we have dwelt 
so long. We shall then find that the things 
of time have been but as mirage in the desert, 
and that the abiding things belong to that 
city which hath foundations and where the 
streets are paved with gold. "There," as 
F. B. Meyer has pithily said, "they walk 
over streets paved with what we here con- 
sider the only thing worth having." The 
ideals of heaven and of earth are probably 
quite distinct and separate. 



Hopefulness, 145 



HOPEFULNESS. 

Hopefulness, a sanguine turn of mind, a 
tendency to look on the bright side, are of 
the greatest value in character. Melancholy, 
when it becomes a fixed habit, degenerates 
into insanity, and its evil effects are felt not 
only by its immediate victim but by every 
one in his vicinity. The hopeful person is 
not melancholy, has not the blues, looks 
cheerily forward, expecting something bright 
and glad a little farther on, and helping to 
bring the gladness by the very mental atti- 
tude which refuses to see the clouds in the 
sky. 

"Molly Pease is a perfect rubber ball," 
said a girl the other day, referring to a friend, 
"You cannot permanently depress her if 
you try. She is one of those people whose 
darkest clouds have a silver lining, and it's 
just a cure for low spirits to live in the same 
house with her." Blessed Molly Pease. 

Of a doctor whom I know a patient re- 
marked " It's half the battle to have Doctor 
Lightheart come into the room with that 
jolly face and cheery genial voice of his. 
He fairly routs the enemy before he writes 
10 



146 The Art of Being Agreeable. 

a prescription ; somehow disease retreats 
when that sunny look of his challenges it to 
do its worst." 

Now, you perhaps were born hopeful, 
dear reader, and it may be that you owe 
much of your happy temperament to some 
ancestor like Molly Pease or Doctor Light- 
heart. If this is so, thank God on your 
knees, for you are equipped for the battle 
and the struggle, the ups and the downs of 
life, as only the most enviable and fortunate 
persons are. Mr. Despondency and Mr. 
Ready to Halt and poor Miss Much Afraid 
who came into the world handicapped and 
hampered by their nerves, their innate 
bias toward sorrow, their wretched health, 
or their distrust of the future, are the people 
to be pitied, not you. 

We speak of our dear Lord as a Man of 
sorrows and acquainted with grief, and we 
habitually think of Him as walking before- 
hand in the gloom of Gethsemane and the 
awful shade of Golgotha. Yet Christ must 
have been happy. He had the joy that was 
set before Him, and it glowed like the sun 
on His path. Evermore He knew that His 
mission was to be accomplished. The 
smile of His Father was always with him. 
So the sick were glad when they heard his 
voice and the shout "Jesus of Nazareth is 
passing by" made the blood leap in the 
veins of the blind, and the children clung to 
him, and crowded close to him for his bless- 



Hopefulness, 147 

ing. Jesus was a hopeful, a happy, a full- 
hearted man, and we please Him, when most 
we are cheery and glad. 

It's never worth while to worry, you know. 
Consider what sort of things we worry 
about, and how futile it is to waste strength 
and to be disturbed over what may never 
happen. You are afraid your ship will never 
come in, the ship you sent out freighted 
with so much desire, so many ambitions. 
Well, maybe not, but the great probability 
is that with all sails set and a favoring gale, 
that very ship is sailing homeward now. 
You are afraid you'll come to the poor-house 
at last, and so you save and scrimp and 
deny yourself, and never take the good of 
your earnings and your hoardings, ever that 
ghastly spectre of poverty before you, and 
what does it all amount to? A woman I 
knew who lived in that state of fear and 
worry for thirty years, wearing her old 
clothes till they fell into rags and ribbons 
and looking like a frump with a toothache 
most of the time, and then she died, and her 
husband brought home a crowd of giddy 
young nieces and cousins to live in the 
house, and they all spent like water the 
money "Aunty" had so painfully saved. 
If she had only hoped a little, what a good 
time she might have had. 

You are not easy in your mind about 
your health. You know your throat is 
weak, or your lungs, or kidney disease is in 



148 The Art of Being Agreeable. 

the family, or there is a tradition that the 
men or the women of your line die sud- 
denly, or there is something which keeps 
you uncomfortable, and clutches at your 
peace with a cold hand in the dead of the 
midnight. I am sorry for you, but I repeat 
the Master's words, "Take no thought for 
the morrow. The morrow shall take thought 
for the things of itself. Sufficient unto the 
day is the evil thereof. " Do not worry, oh, 
poor, trembling soul. " Hope thou in God, 
and thou shalt yet praise him ! " 

Of all dreadful things, of all heart-break- 
ing experiences, the very worst is living in 
an atmosphere of hopelessness. Nobody is 
so trying, so exasperating, so pitilessly 
wearing as the one who has said good-bye 
to hope. To dwell with such an one is to 
live with Giant Despair in his dungeons in 
Doubting Castle. You have not forgotten 
what happened to the pilgrims, Christian 
and Hopeful, when this dreadful giant 
pounced upon them for their sins of sloth 
and little faith, and carried them to his dark 
fastnesses. Bunyan, in his story, so fresh 
and true to our experience still, shows us 
how Despair and Diffidence, when they 
unite their forces, can make havoc with any 
soul. 

" Now there was, not far from the place 
where they lay, a castle, called Doubting 
Castle, the owner whereof was Giant De- 
spair, and it was in his grounds they now 



Hopefulness. 149 

were sleeping ; wherefore he, getting up in 
the morning early, and walking up and 
down in his fields, caught Christian and 
Hopeful asleep in his grounds. Then with 
a grim and surly voice he bid them awake, 
and asked them whence they were, and 
what they did in his grounds. They told 
him they were pilgrims, and that they had 
lost their way. Then said the giant, ' You 
have this night trespassed on me by tramp- 
ling in and lying on my grounds, and there- 
fore you must go along with me/ So they 
were forced to go, because he was stronger 
than they. They also had but little to say, 
for they knew themselves in a fault. The 
giant, therefore, drove them before him, 
and put them into his castle, into a very 
dark dungeon, nasty and stinking to the 
spirits of these two men. Here, then, they 
lay from Wednesday morning till Saturday 
night, without one bit of bread or drop of 
drink, or light, or any to ask how they did ; 
they were, therefore, here in evil case, and 
were far from friends and acquaintance. 
Psa. lxxxviii : 18. Now in this place Chris- 
tian had double sorrow. 

"Now Giant Despair had a wife, and her 
name was Diffidence : so when he was gone 
to bed he told his wife what he had done, to 
wit, that he had taken a couple of prisoners, 
and cast them into his dungeon for trespass- 
ing on his grounds. Then he asked her 
also what he had best do further to them. 



150 The Art of Being Agreeable. 

So she asked him what they were, whence 
they came, and whither they were bound, 
and he told her. Then she counselled him, 
that when he arose in the morning he should 
beat them without mercy. So when he 
arose, he getteth him a grievous crab-tree 
cudgel, and goes down into the dungeon to 
them, and there first falls to rating of them 
as if they were dogs, although they gave 
him never a word of distaste. Then he falls 
upon them, and beats them fearfully, in 
such sort that they were not able to help 
themselves, or to turn them upon the floor. 
This done, he withdraws and leaves them 
there to condole their misery, and to mourn 
under their distress : so all that day they 
spent their time in nothing but sighs and 
bitter lamentations. The next night she, 
talking with her husband further about them, 
and understanding that they were yet alive, 
did advise him to counsel them to make 
away with themselves. 

" Well, on Saturday, about midnight, they 
began to pray, and continued in prayer tiil 
almost break of day. 

"Now, a little before it was day, good 
Christian, as one half amazed, brake out 
into this passionate speech: "What a 
fool,' quoth he, 'am I, thus to lie in a 
stinking dungeon, when I may as well walk 
at liberty ! I have a key in my bosom called 
Promise, that will, I am persuaded, open 
any lock in Doubting Castle.' Then said 



Hopefulness. 151 

Hopeful, ' That is good news ; good brother, 
pluck it out of thy bosom and try." 

' ' Then Christian pulled it out of his bosom, 
and began to try at the dungeon-door, whose 
bolt, as he turned the key, gave back, and 
the door flew open with ease, and Christian 
and Hopeful both came out. Then he went 
to the outward door that leads into the castle- 
yard, and with his key opened that door 
also. After that he went to the iron gate, 
for that must be opened too ; but that lock 
went desperately hard, yet the key did open 
it. They then thrust open the gate to make 
their escape with speed ; but that gate, as it 
opened, made such a creaking that it w r aked 
Giant Despair, who hastily rising to pursue 
his prisoners, felt his limbs to fail, for his 
fits took him again, so that he could by no 
means go after them. Then they went on, 
and came to the King's highway, and so 
were safe, because they were out of his 
jurisdiction. " 

There is always the way out by prayer, 
and promise for the hopeful soul. 

" Look up and not down. 

Look out and not in. 

Look forward and not back, 

And — lend a hand ! " 



152 The Art of Being Agreeable. 



INTERESTING PEOPLE. 

The quality which makes a person inter- 
esting is not very easily defined or analyzed. 
That wonderfully subtle thing which we 
call charm eludes the dictionary, is not the 
same in one person as in another, and is 
not in the least dependent upon either beauty 
or youth. The interesting woman, for 
instance, may be a trifle more pleasing if 
she have a graceful carriage, and a lovely 
face ; but on the other hand, we have all 
seen scores of women with faultless com- 
plexions and very much to pride themselves 
on in the way of style and good looks, who 
yet failed to interest any one in the world 
except their kinspeople and neighborly 
friends, for any length of time. Old friends 
and neighbors are apt to be loyal and to 
excuse faults. 

One of the most successful hostesses 
and brilliant talkers whom this generation 
has seen, was, in fact, a woman of 
remarkable plainness, with an insignifi- 
cant presence, a muddy complexion, car- 
roty hair, and nothing to boast of in the 
way of stature. Of her, an acute observer 
said : "She is simply the most fascinating 



Interesting People, 153 

person in any company, and wherever 
she goes, a crowd of delightful and delighted 
people may be seen gathered about her. 

What this lady would have been had she 
been endowed with personal beauty, I do 
not know. As it was, she triumphed over 
many defects, and, to the last day of her 
life, held a court whenever she chose to 
grace a drawing-room. 

The most faultlessly handsome woman 
whom I remember, bearing herself with a 
distinction worthy of a duchess and dressing 
always in the latest fashion, was so insipid 
and flavorless and had so few ideas that 
after having given her the attention one 
bestows upon a fashion plate, one turned 
away to forget all about her presence in the 
room. She was tedious to a degree. The 
woman who is truly interesting — or for 
that matter, the man — will constantly add 
something to the charms already possessed. 
The Bible rule, "To him that hath shall be 
given/' cannot but be fulfilled in the case 
of these happily constituted folk. It is 
w T ell worth while to consider what are the 
constituent parts of their heaven-born gift 
and to inquire whether or not it is within 
our grasp or beyond it. 

In the first place, the interesting person 
did not crystallize at a given point in her 
career. Sometimes, people cease to make 
fresh additions to their mental stores and 
therefore cease to assimilate knowledge and 



154 The Art of Being Agreeable. 

their minds become in a sense atrophied at 
an early period of their lives. Which of us 
has not encountered gray-haired women 
who were simply the fossilized remains of 
girls of eighteen. They had not given their 
minds anything to do ; they had not remained 
receptive to the ideas and the influences 
around them ; and in a world full of novelty, 
full of stimulus, full of the miraculous in the 
way of discovery, progress and invention, 
they had ceased to grow. Such people could 
not by any possibility remain interesting. 
They were pre-ordained to dulness. 

Hard work and incessant struggle have 
the effect at times of paralyzing the bright- 
ness of a disposition and of changing a 
temperament so that one finds, and one 
breaks one's heart to find, the mother who 
has been outgrown by her children, or the 
wife who is no longer her husband's fit com- 
panion. This could hardly have happened 
had she, amid all her cares, kept herself in 
touch with the younger lives and not allowed 
John to separate his life from hers. For a 
good example of the woman who kept her 
queenly hand on the helm, I must refer you 
to tnat dear book lately published, ' ' Margaret 
Ogilvie," in which the gifted Scotch novelist, 
J. M. Barrie, relates the beautiful history 
of his mother's life as it was lived in the little 
Highland home with her children. Hers 
were everyday the spontaneity, the sparkle, 
the vivid interest which made the home 



Interesting People, 155 

always blithe, and the result was a character 
interesting to the latest day of its existence 
upon earth, though at last she was fragile 
and old. If we would be interesting, we 
must be alive, we must care about things, 
we must not be entirely absorbed by the rou- 
tine of petty affairs. I would earnest { y say to 
the beloved young girl : Cultivate those 
qualities which will make you invaluable at 
home and in society, and begin doing so 
before you leave the school-room. To the 
elderly woman in danger of too much 
devotion to her little children and of too 
greatly narrowing her life within domestic 
limits, I would again say : Begin to interest 
yourself in those things which go on outside 
of your own door. Take time to read and 
to study even if it be only in snatches, a few 
minutes now and a few minutes later. 
Talk with your husband about something 
more than material affairs, and occasionally 
surrender the baby to some other hands 
while you go for a walk or a visit or enjoy 
some diversion which pleased you before 
your marriage. Escape into the larger life. 
The same advice, changed or modified by 
circumstances, may apply to us all. No one 
ever grows too old to take an interest in life, 
and life presents just the largest interest in 
the fullest measure to those who seek for its 
best opportunities and gifts. 

It is quite worth while to keep up by a 
little regular practice, the accomplishments 



156 The Art of Being Agreeable. 

one has gained in youth, and a fad or a 
hobby is not a bad thing so long as it is 
used by way of relief and not as the one 
thing in life. 

The truly interesting person is not ex- 
clusively occupied, however, with herself 
and her own affairs. As Mrs. Browning 
says in her sweet poem, "My Kate," "It 
was her thinking of others made you think 
of her." No one can be interesting whose 
horizon is bounded by the insistent ego. 
We must live outside of ourselves, and the 
more we can do this, the more we shall 
draw others to us. The secret of being 
thought what one may call winsome, is in 
living lovingly and unselfishly in this world, 
remembering from day to day, that we pass 
this way but once. 

The ability to tell a story delightfully is 
invaluable to one who would be popular in 
society or pleasing in conversation at home. 
People either can or cannot tell stories well. 
If having tried and failed a number of times, 
you discover that this is not your talent, 
you would better leave story-telling to those 
more highly dowered in this direction. Noth- 
ing is more forlorn than to hear a story from 
which the unfortunate raconteur has omitted 
the point, or a story which is introduced at 
the wrong moment, or tacked on to the 
conversation with the evident intention of 
telling a story because you know it, whether 
it fits into the woof of the evening or not. 



Interesting People. 157 

Still, in this desert land there are bright 
oases where the story-teller pitches her tent, 
and where she enthralls all listeners by the 
magic of her words. Always, there are men 
and women gifted as was she who for a 
thousand and one nights entertained the 
despot against his will, so that he was oblig- 
ed to forego his savage intent and spare her 
menaced life. A pretty story is told of an 
elderly English gentlewoman who was the 
guest of the blind King of Hanover. She 
was once driving with the king and queen 
when suddenly the horses started and the 
carriage seemed about to upset in the middle 
of a most entertaining narration. "Why 
do you not go on with your story ? " inquired 
the king. " Because, your Majesty, the car- 
riage is just going to upset/' "That is the 
coachman's affair," replied the king. "Do 
you go on with your story." 

A very charming thing was said about the 
wife of Dean Stanley, whose universal cor- 
diality of manner and delightful charm of 
conversation are remembered by a very 
large circle, constant reference being made 
to them in those memoirs of distinguished 
people wmich have repeatedly come from 
the hand of Augustus Hare. Of Lady 
Augusta Stanley it is said that her goodness, 
wisdom, and tact were always in evidence 
and won all hearts. Going soon after his 
marriage to visit a friend, Dean Stanley rode 
on the box of the fly. "I see you've got 



158 The Art of Being Agreeable. 

Lady Augusta Bruce inside/' said the friend; 
"I remember her very well at Windsor." 
"Not Lady Augusta Bruce. She is Lady 
Augusta Stanley now. She is my wife." 
" Well, then, I do wish you joy, for your wife 
is just the best woman in England ! " This 
was praise which the dean appreciated. 
Somebody may read this and say to herself : 
"Years ago I might have developed a side 
of my character which would have made 
me as delightful as these people of whom 
one reads, but it is now too late. " Believe 
no such thing, dear friend. It is never too 
late to improve what is imperfect or to repair 
a mistake. To a lady who came with a 
story of danger and difficulty to a philan- 
thropic woman this word was said, in 
another connection it is true, but it is just as 
well worth while in this connection as in 
any other : " My dear, if you stand counting 
the difficulties whenever there is a good work 
before you, you w r ill never do anything that 
is worth doing all your life. Only begin, 
begin, begin, and the difficulties will all 
disappear. " 

If we never were taught in early childhood 
to yield the best chair and to bring the foot- 
stool, to pay small and graceful attentions, to 
avoid interrupting another person, to behave 
with tact and sweet friendliness, we must 
not calmly elect to be clumsy and rough the 
rest of our days. The lessons of courtesy, 
tact, and good-breeding are easily learned, 



Interesting People, 159 

and politeness soon becomes a second nat- 
ure, if it did not happen to be our nature at 
first. Anybody may be charming- who cares 
to be so. It is a matter of prayer and pains. 



160 The Art of Being Agreeable 



AGREEABLE IN ILLNESS. 

Most people fancy that the ordinary con- 
ventionalities and rules of politeness may be 
suspended when they are ill. A person 
who is ordinarily amiable and gentle in 
speech and manner allows herself, or still 
oftener himself, to be cross and unreasonable 
when on a bed of pain. Of course it is not 
easy to bear aching- nerves, the unrest of 
fever and the general demoralization which 
comes when the body is tortured and the 
mind enfeebled by disease. Not even a saint 
can be said to enjoy sickness. The fact is 
that in a world adjusted to right conditions 
there would be nothing but health and pleas- 
ure which comes from a thoroughly perfect 
adaptation to the work of the day. If we were 
all well-born and well-reared, if we could 
have chosen our own grandfathers and 
grandmothers and regulated the way our 
ancestors lived, if even from our own child- 
hood we had eaten and slept and labored 
and rested with a view to health and right 
living, we should probably be able to throw 
physic to the dogs and do away with the ne- 
cessity of the doctor and the nurse. As it 
is, however, there will probably continue to 



Agreeable in Illness, 161 



£> 



be more or less illness in this world, more or 
less pain and suffering; and however ten- 
derly we may regard our friends and kindred 
when they are ill, in our own persons we 
must feel that we have an obligation to 
behave patiently and with amiability even 
if we do not feel very comfortable. 

Of course it is not to be expected that a 
man or woman in extreme suffering will 
have very many little bits of courteous con- 
versation or small change of repartee and 
anecdote ready for those who are about him 
or her. The minimum of speech is appro- 
priate at such a time and one may be par- 
doned if one does not always say, "Please " 
and "Thank you " : but one is not excusable 
for irritation, gruffness, and a general bearish 
rudeness and sharper waspishness of de- 
meanor in illness. All rules are not suspend- 
ed even then. The mind has a great deal to 
do with the body at all times, and if one can 
maintain a placid and tranquil mental state 
or can repress the outward manifestation of 
fretfulness, very much will be gained. 

Parents owe it to children to begin when 
the little things are small to teach them that 
sickness is not a time for crossness. We 
are all creatures of habit ; habit and train- 
ing make the difference between the gentle- 
man and the boor ; and habit is made up 
of the ten thousand little acts, small ex- 
pressions and trivial affairs which event- 
ually become automatic and result in sweet- 
ii 



1 62 The Art of Being Agreeable. 

ness of demeanor or in the awkward and 
clumsy appearance of the untrained and ill- 
taught person. 

I have known instances in which the long 
life of an invalid was so sunny, so beautiful 
and so heroic that her presence was a bene- 
diction in her home and a joy to all about 
her. One such was the case of my own 
dear and saintly mother, who for twenty- 
five years of her life was seldom free from 
pain and who, for winter after winter, was 
shut into her home awav from the activi- 
ties she loved. Always her room was a 
place so inviting and so hallowed that her 
friends sought it as they would have sought 
a shrine. The little child, the bright young 
girl, the student just at home from college, 
the man worried with business cares, her 
pastor, her friends in the church, her chil- 
dren and grandchildren, always came to her 
for sympathy, counsel and companionship, 
and never came in vain. Once I remember 
to have gone to her in the evening just be- 
fore the hour to say good-night, and I shall 
never forget the beauty of her lovely face 
and the uplifted look in her eyes as she 
said : 

"Let me tell you what a beautiful vision 
I have had. I lay here between sleeping 
and waking — it did not seem to me that I 
was asleep, though perhaps I was — but all 
at once there was a presence in my room, 
something beautiful and splendid. And as 



Agreeable in Illness. 163 

I looked, the darkness grew brighter and 
brighter as if a rose were unfolding, and I 
felt as if about me were brooding white 
wings of angels ; and then I heard a sweet 
voice say clearly in my ear : ' Be not faith- 
less, but believing/" 

Dream or vision whichever it was, to that 
angelic melody and sweetness my precious 
mother's life was set. And so it continued 
to be until one winter day, she passed away 
and went to her home in that land where 
the inhabitant shall nevermore say : "I am 
sick," and where her eye forevermore be- 
holds the King in his beauty. To us who 
remember her, and to those of her own blood 
it seems a duty unforgettable to be patient 
and lovely and considerate and agreeable 
even in illness and pain. She was all this, 
and so must we be, following her bright 
example. 

Years ago, there used to pass my door a 
bright girl on her w r ay to school. She 
would look up as she tripped by the window 
and toss me a kiss from her finger tips and 
smile. She would run in on her way home 
and sit down for a few minutes and tell me 
a story of herself. A brilliant, beautiful, 
bewitching creature she was, full of plans, 
hopes and ambitions. She meant to have a 
great career, and perhaps she would have 
done so, but that the year after her gradua- 
tion, a man, in every way worthy, fell in 
love with her and gained her maiden heart. 



164 The Art of Being Agreeable. 

I was a guest at her wedding, and never 
was bride lovelier, never did a new home 
build itself on fairer prospects for the future. 
By and by, there came to it God's precious 
gift of a little child ; and then the life in the 
little household was sweeter and fuller than 
ever. As the mother cradled her babe it 
seemed as if the Madonna look in her face 
grew and grew, and it was worth going far 
to see the pretty picture made by the lovely 
young mother and the beautiful child. She 
was sitting in church one day, when sudden- 
ly she felt a sharp and mysterious pain in 
her foot. The pain speedily became un- 
bearable. She was taken home and medical 
skill was sent for, but the strange twinge 
she felt was the first danger-signal of a mys- 
terious spinal disease which before long laid 
her upon her couch and which ever since 
has baffled all the skill of all the doctors 
who have tried to do anything for her. 
From youth to middle age this woman has 
been a prisoner upon her bed, unable to turn 
herself, unable to hold a book in her hand, 
unable at some times to bear so much as 
the pressure of the sheet upon her body 
without great suffering. Her boy has grown 
from childhood to manhood accustomed 
always to see his mother smile at him her 
good-mornings and good-nights from the 
bed on which she lies. Her husband, 
always devoted and almost angelic in con- 
stant and unremitting care, has over and 



Agreeable in Illness. 165 

over again said: " I have had a saint for 
a wife during all these years, and have known 
the joy of heaven in my home except for 
the pain which she was bearing and which 
I could not relieve/ 5 From her couch, this 
lady has directed the affairs of her home, 
managing its every detail with precision 
and fidelity. She has kept herself aware of 
what was going on in the world through 
books, having them read to her ; she knows 
the new authors as well as the old. She 
has talked with the teachers and professors 
who have educated her boy and herself has 
influenced every step of his progress ; and 
to-day, sweet, pure, uncomplaining and un- 
failingly cheerful, she meets the visitor with 
the brave look which shows how the soul 
may dominate the body. If she has learned 
the art of being agreeable under all circum- 
stances, what may not you and I do who 
have lesser burdens to bear ? 

Perhaps no malady is so terribly relent- 
less in its demands upon our patience as one 
which compels the sufferer to live always 
under the menace of the knife. I have 
known a woman to undergo repeated surgi- 
cal operations, dwelling for years in that 
valley of the shadow from which the only 
escape is through surgery or death, and 
during the entire time have seen her not 
only the pattern of courage and fortitude, 
but the blithe companion of her children and 
often the most entertaining member of her 



1 66 The Art of Being Agreeable. 

family. Such a friend I remember to have, for 
nearly ten years, kept her entire household 
cheerful and bright while she herself was 
seldom free from suffering, and when over 
and over again she was carried to the hospi- 
tal and placed under an anaesthetic, not know- 
ing whether she would ever waken again on 
this side the grave. Such examples rebuke 
us for showing impatience in the sudden and 
transitory attacks which come to us, or in the 
occasional break in life which is made by a 
spell of illness. Fortitude is heroism. He- 
roism is a matter of faith, of courage, and of 
the indomitable will. 

There is a way of looking at life which en- 
ables one always to be bright and lovely and 
charming. ' ' I have learned the secret, " said 
St. Paul, " in whatsoever state I am, therewith 
to be content." It is not easy to be content 
when you lie in your bed and are aware that 
Bridget is wasting the coal, scorching the 
linen and breaking the dishes downstairs ; 
nor if you have to forego a pleasant engage- 
ment, or must lay aside important work be- 
cause an inconvenient disease of some sort 
has fastened itself upon you. Can you al- 
ways acquiesce without an inward murmur ? 
My point is, that though we feel this mur- 
muring desire, it is in our power to repress 
the outward expression of fretfulness ; we 
must never forget that in this world nothing 
is so contagious as example. A little girl 
was looking out of the window when a rude 



Agreeable in Illness, 167 

boy, passing by, thrust out his tongue and 
made a face at her. Instantly, she began 
to cry and her sunshine was gone. But her 
mother said, "Look out of the window- 
again, my clear, for there comes a pretty 
young lady." The young lady looked up at 
the little one, laughed and threw her a flower, 
and instantly the child was good-humored 
and happy again. One never knows how 
far the influence of ones life may go. No 
story is ever finished in this world. We are 
all of us living in a story without an end, 
and as we go along we are, here and there 
and everywhere, affecting peoples lives, 
doing people good or doing people harm, 
because, whether we think it or not, we are 
all bound up in one bundle and each life is 
in touch with all. 

We that are strong should bear the infirm- 
ities of the weak, and therefore nothing is 
more shocking and unpardonable than for 
those who are well to lose patience in their 
turn with those who are ill. The caretaker 
must keep herself serene and self-poised, 
and, no matter how trying her patient may 
be, it is her part to be always tranquil and 
calm. She cannot do this if she is always 
tired out, or if she foolishly neglect to get 
what rest she can. When illness enters a 
family and it is not practicable to have a 
trained nurse — always the best thing to do 
if it can be managed — the members of the 
family should divide the care among them- 



1 68 The Art of Being Agreeable. 

selves and so order things that no one 
person shall bear too heavy a load. By a 
judicious arrangement of times and seasons, 
of night nursing and day nursing, one may 
relieve another. It is especially needful in 
time of long illnesses when the campaign, 
so to speak, extends over months, that out- 
side of the sick-room, there shall be the reg- 
ular o;oin«r on of the davs and the meals in 
their proper order, and an opportunity should 
be made for the nurse, whoever she may be, 
to get rest and exercise in the sunlight at 
some stated period every day. 

When the caretaker is fussy or imperious 
or in any way ruffled, her mood reacts un- 
favorably upon her patient. We may show 
irritation sometimes in the quality of the 
voice when the words we use are what they 
should be. Tones reveal moods, and voices 
are characteristic. The thing to do is not 
to feel the irritation, and this can only be 
effected by a sensible and constant taking 
care of one's-self. 

If all our lives were set to the note in 
which there is neither fret nor jar but only 
peace and goodwill, what a divine place 
the earth would be ! Every one of us has 
the right to have heaven in her heart, in her 
face, and in her home. "The Kingdom of 
Heaven is within you," and it does not 
matter very much whether the environment 
be elegant or simple, the home stately or 
lowly, if the heavenly spirit be there. 



Agreeable in Illness. 169 

Our Lord is willing to make us his earthly 
habitations, and he is incarnated again and 
again in his followers. We never read that in 
his beautiful earth-life he suffered the pangs 
of illness. He seems to have had a perfectly 
strong body, able to bear fatigue and trou- 
ble and trial to the end ; but we know that 
he had great sympathy with and compas- 
sion for the sick because he went up and 
down the hills and vales of the Holy Land 
always healing the sick, restoring sight to 
the blind, making the deaf to hear, and, 
strangest work of all, casting out devils from 
those who were possessed of them. There 
are devils still to be cast out, though we 
call them by politer names. Fractiousness, 
jealousy, envy, perversity, what are these 
but demons which sap the heart-life and 
make the home-life such a worry ? Our 
blessed Lord has power still to cast these 
out and he still says to every one of us : 
" Ask,and it shall be given you." 



; 3 The Art of Being Agreeable. 



AGREEABLE IN OLD AGE. 

Some years ago at a country house not 
many miles from London, a brilliant man 
of letters, one of the class whom Robert 
Burns described as "the chiel amang us 
takin' notes," was one of a large company 
of guests. It was whispered about that an 
old lady was coming, an old lady who 
would have travelled straight through from 
Scotland and who would probably arrive 
perfectly exhausted. The dinner hour came, 
and with it, there glided in amongst the 
company, "a graceful, refined old lady with 
features the color of white alabaster, in a 
black velvet dress, a chain and cross around 
her waist and a lace headdress which was 
neither vail nor hood, but was so infinitely 
becoming to the wearer that from the first 
moment of seeing her in it, it was impossi- 
ble to imagine her in anything else. She 
was soon in conversation, the animation 
and inspiration of her eye speaking even 
more powerfully than her lips ; and the 
next day, the whole party were at her feet. 
Her conversation grew hourly more en- 
chanting." This lady was Mrs. Duncan 
Stewart, at that time past her seventy-fifth 



Agreeable in Old Age. 171 

year. In many aspects of her life, she was 
the typical and ideal old lady, a queen to 
her latest day. Her biographer says that 
no one could be with her without feeling 
better and without showing the best side of 
his or her nature. She had the habit of 
looking at the best side of people and she 
always shut her eyes to their faults. The 
simplest present or kindness shown her by 
any one was appreciated. Even if the gift 
were worth nothing and cost little, she 
would speak very warmly of the kindness. 
However much a thing pleased her, she 
would always rather give it away than keep 
it for herself. To extreme old age, she re- 
tained a happy quality of eagerness about 
things and some one asking : "Is life 
worth living? " she replied : " Yes, to the 
very dregs ! " It might have been said of 
her when at last she passed peacefully and 
painlessly into the other life : 

" From the banquet of life rose a satisfied guest, 
Thanked the Lord of the Feast and in peace went 
to rest." 

Old people have the best right in the 
world to be agreeable, because, in the first 
place, they have borne the burden and heat 
of the day and have reached that period 
when it is right that they should have re- 
pose ; because they have experience ; be- 
cause they stand in the forefront of the gen- 
eration and are nearer Heaven than the rest 



172 The Art of Being Agreeable. 

of us. It must be owned that they are 
sometimes difficult to please and that there 
are not a few of them who invite the opin- 
ion of the small boy who said he didn't 
want to go to Heaven if grandpa was to be 
there. More than young people, the aged 
need to guard against any carelessness 
about their personal appearance. They 
should, so far as they can, keep themselves 
up ; their clothing and personal appearance 
should always be neat ; and they should be 
a little patient with younger people who 
seem to them to be forcing attentions which 
they do not wish to receive. It is almost 
an unfailing sign that one is growing old 
when one begins to be sensitive with regard 
to help that is offered and to find trifles bur- 
densome which were once little thought of. 
— "The grasshopper has become a burden/' 
Even then, one may curb one's irritability 
of temper, speak gently and kindly, and 
accept the pleasures of the present without 
repining over that which has forever gone 
by. 

In my mental gallery I have several por- 
traits. One is of a gentleman of the old 
school, ninety years old, when I called at 
his house one day, and I still recollect his 
full form, his benignant countenance, and 
his rising when I came to his chair. To 
one who brought him a gift of grapes, clus- 
tering purple and sweet on their stems, he 
said, ' \ My dear, this was a beautiful thing 



Agreeable in Old Age. 173 

for you to do, to bring this fruit to me, you 
so young, to me, so old." He cared enough 
about a young man to ask if he had been 
promoted in his business, and he inquired 
whether the little son of a certain poor 
woman, had been taken on as an errand boy 
in a shop where there had been a vacancy. 
Another, an old lady, "Aunty" a town full of 
younger people affectionately called her, 
held to extreme old age the admiration and 
regard of a host of friends. She was never 
"blue" or depressed. Her taste for gay 
dress amused the younger generation, for 
her caps, when she was well past eighty, 
were trimmed with bows of pink, and blue, 
and yellow, and lavender. "I like the 
sweet peas," she said, "they are so light 
and airy. Flowers are not sad-colored, and 
why should I be so, since I am the happiest 
woman in the whole state ? I have had a 
long life, and a fine one, and I'm going on 
to a better country." 

Dearest and sweetest of all women of 
whom I have ever heard was one who held 
the reverent love of the children in a town 
well hidden from the great world in a nook 
of the Green Mountains. This lady was 
called grandmother by everybody. The 
girls told her of their love affairs, the young 
men consulted her about the choice of a wife. 
If somebody's bonnet was unbecoming she 
brought it to grandmother who speedily saw 
what was amiss and remedied the matter. 



174 The Art of Being Agreeable. 

A church sociable, a wedding, an evening 
party or a sleigh ride had the details arranged 
in grandmothers room, and when she died 
all the stores were closed, and the schools 
were suspended on the day of her funeral, 
while the whole town was in mourning, and 
the children in long procession carried 
flowers to line and heap upon her grave, — 
the grave of a winsome and saintly grand- 
mother. Such a one we have all known and 
we sympathize with a woman who writes : 

u I look back through the mist of years and 
seethe dear old-fashioned farmhouse, lichen- 
covered, and the morning-glory vines still 
climbing up the front window, hanging 
their bell-like blossoms out to the kisses of 
the sun. 

" I can see myself again a child, plucking 
off the flowers a day old, and 'popping' 
them. Who has not ' popped ' morning- 
glory blossoms? And then the crab-apple 
trees that in May sprinkled the door-yard 
grass with snow, sprinkled the passing 
breezes with fragrance rare, and oh ! so 
wondrously sweet. Behind the house with 
its lath fence running all about, to keep out 
the investigating hens, which mother always 
declared were the pests of her life, was the 
garden, with great beds of Johnnie Jump- 
ups and early crocuses, with sweet peas 
climbing up the fence and a great sweet 
brier drooping over. Every corner held 
some sweet surprise for the summer sun to 



Agreeable in Old Age. 175 

reveal ; here a bunch of Bouncing Betts, or 
maybe Black-eyed Susans peeping up ; a 
spike of larkspur, or a waving spray of 
bachelor's buttons. 

il I can see them all, the daffodil, the snap- 
dragon, the marigolds, the dahlias, and the 
sweet old-fashioned pinks. The lilac tree 
by the path where birds were ever nesting. 
And more than all this the rows of currants, 
blackberries, and grapes ; the raspberries 
and gooseberries ; the little corner devoted 
to strawberries, that mother guarded as the 
apple of her eye, and then all those dreadful 
herbs, and the carawajr bush and coriander 
that filled the pockets of our little pinafores 
with seeds, spicy and delicious. 

"After all there was no place on earth so 
dear. There never can be another. Time 
brings many changes. The old home has 
fallen into decay ; the last spray of the 
morning-glory vine has rotted from the front 
window. The fence that guarded the little 
garden has fallen away, and rank weeds 
take the place of pinks and daffodils : and 
the birds, I even doubt their nesting longer 
in the lilac by the path. There are no 
thoughtful hands to hang bundles of herbs 
to dry above the kitchen stove. All, all, is 
changed. Oh ! time in your ravaging flight 
what will you leave to us out of all that is 
dear?" 

Last winter in Brooklyn , where I live, there 
was an Authors' Reading given for a charity. 



176 The Art of Being Agreeable. 

There was a very long programme and the 
audience began to show signs of weariness 
before it was ended. At the very last, when 
it was late, and the people unmistakably 
tired, a beautiful old lady, — a lady frankly 
owning to seventy years, — with her soft 
white hair and her plain black gown and her 
face as serene as a summer's morning, came 
forward and read us a story. She beguiled 
us from our weariness ; we forgot the hour, 
we were children at her feet, and the engag- 
ing sweetness of this stately and queenly 
grandmother was the crown of the whole 
entertainment. This fair woman had never 
abdicated her throne. Her sceptre abides 
in her hands. She will be charming to her 
latest day. 

The pretty incident which follows, I 
clipped from a paper for my scrap-book, 
and I fancy you will like to read it too. 

"The car was crossing the city from the 
west to the east when a very young mother, 
evidently from the poorer class, got into the 
car. Both she and her baby wore the posi- 
tive evidences of refinement. The modesty 
of the bonnets worn by each, the daintiness 
with which the plain clothes were worn, all 
showed the woman to be one in spirit above 
her class. The little girl was just beginning 
to talk. She looked long and earnestly at an 
old woman, dirty, scowling, and repulsive, 
on the other side of the car. The child 
looked so earnestly at the old woman that 



Agreeable in Old Age. 177 

the mother thought, perhaps, that was the 
reason why the old woman was scowling, 
and she tried to attract the little girl's atten- 
tion, but it was useless. The big blue eyes 
were not removed from the face of the old 
woman. At last the little girl became so 
restless that the mother stood her on her feet 
by her knee, when the child, with a quick step 
and outstretched arms, threw herself against 
the scowling old woman and said, in her 
sweet baby tones, ' I dot dranma home ; 
me loves dranmas. ' The old woman was 
so startled at this unexpected display of affec- 
tion and interest that her eyes filled with 
tears, and, putting one hand on the child's 
shoulder, she pushed her gently from her 
knee, and said, ' I'm not fit fer yez to touch, 
child, ye're so sweet and pretty.' But the 
baby, with that clear look of innocence that 
is so startling in some children, pushed 
away the detaining hand and again leaned 
heavily against the old woman. This time, 
putting her elbow on the old woman's knee 
and her chin on her hand, she gazed with 
the most bewitching smile into the old 
woman's face, murmuring again, ' I loves 
dranmas.' The tears overflowed and trick- 
led down the cheeks of the old woman, and 
there was not a dry eye in the car. The 
little mother, with rare wisdom, let the angel 
of mercy alone, and there the child stood, 
finally taking the corner of the old woman's 
shawl in her hand, smiling her friendliness 
12 



178 The Art of Being Agreeable. 

into the face of the woman who evidentl) r 
years before had built a wall between her- 
self and the world's good-fellowship." 

Here, too, is a bit of wisdom from the 
book of experience. "Because Thou hast 
been my help, therefore in the shadow of 
thy wings will I rejoice/' cries many an 
aged saint of God. 

"I think we had better keep a book of 
remembrance, daughter," said my father, 
as we sat beside our evening fire, rehearsing 
some unusual perplexities and sorrows. 
Life had gone very hard with us that year, 
and I had become a chronic complainer. 
Just now brother John lay helpless with a 
broken thigh, and she, who could "run 
smooth music from the roughest stone " 
with ceaseless love, had been taken from 
our sight. 

" A book of remembrance, father? Why, 
I thought the Lord kept that." 

"Yes, but why shall not wayworn mortals 
keep one also, in which to note His gifts ; 
to recount the blessings of the way ; the 
' red-letter ' days of sunshine after storm and 
darkness, joy after sorrow, quiet and peace 
after confusion, unexpected good, deliver- 
ance from danger? It has become easier to 
speak of our misfortunes and trials than of 
our blessings. These are received in silence. 
I'm afraid we shall never become ' house- 
top saints' at this rate." 

"Don't say 'we,' blessed old father!"! 



Agreeable in Old Age. 179 

cried penitently, noting with a pang the 
glory of swift-coming translation all over 
the noble head and face. Smiling at my 
eagerness, he softly repeated, — 

" Every lifetime, 
Yes, the narrowest and most drear, 
Is a cup that still runs over 

With the gifts of God most dear ! " 

" Suppose we take these pocket diaries 
and write in them 'Gifts versus Losses/ 
blessings over against trials, joys more than 
griefs, and see what comes of it. I think it 
would prove no small aid to our happiness 
and spiritual health." 

A very tender and penitent heart made its 
first entry that night in the little book. On 
the fly leaf my fathers familiar hand had 
written, 

" Here, then, inscribe them, each red-letter day ! 
Forget not all the sunshine of the way 
By which the Lord hath led thee ; answered prayers, 
And joys unasked; strange blessings, lifted cares; 
Grand promise echoes ! Thus each page shall be 
A record of God's love and faithfulness to thee ! " 

It w T as strange after that, how my book 
of remembrance filled up. I soon had to 
have another. Sometimes I compared mine 
with father's, who said, 

"You see, daughter, we do not need to 
search for His gifts ; they are legion to those 
who have open hearts." 

Often we found we had mentioned the 



i8o The Art of Being Agreeable, 

same gift or deliverance, but oftener the 
need of individuality or experience had rec- 
ognized what the other had missed. Where 
I had noted gifts of bread and loving-kind- 
ness, my father had offered thanks for the 
gift of chastening and hidden manna. Un- 
derneath the former he had written : " Cour- 
age ! ye who bear the sublime lot of sorrow. 
God wills it. It is the ordinance of infinite 
love, to procure for us an infinite glory and 
beatitude ! " and beneath the latter: "We 
have meat to eat, that ye know not of ! " I 
noticed a spirituality in his remembrances 
that marked him, indeed, (c a house-top 
saint." Not a clay passed, but I had occa- 
sion to take my little book many times from 
my pocket, note a sweet surprise, a gracious 
gift, unexpected strength, or cheer, or light; 
a soft air, a radiant sunset, a perfect day, 
an hour of peace, an answered prayer ; an 
hour of fellowship, a friend. 



The Givers of Advice. 181 



THE GIVERS OF ADVICE. 

Advice is cheap, but as a rule it is wisest 
not to give it unasked ; even when it is soli- 
cited, the part of wisdom is to hesitate be- 
fore bestowing it, as, usually, people invite 
counsel, wishing to have their own judgment 
confirmed and determining on the whole, to 
take their own way. Nobody is so much 
dreaded as the person who forces advice on 
his friends, and who persists in dictating 
a course of proceeding to those who do not 
in the least wish to hear any voice except 
their own. 

The giver of advice need not expect to be 
included in the list of agreeable people, for 
he does not belong there. He is much 
more likely to be found in company with 
the unfortunate person who answers in the 
affirmative, with innocent candor, the friend 
who says guilelessly, ' ' Tell me my faults ! " 
Few and far between are those people who 
can bear hearing their faults told them 
even by the lips of friends whom they honor. 
Equally' few and far scattered are those who 
yearn for good advice. 

So, unless officially, as by right of being 



1 82 The Art of Being Agreeable. 

a tutor, or an employer, or a parent, a hus- 
band or a wife, be chary of saying to any 
■one, "You are unwise in this movement, 
you are foolishly investing your time and 
your strength ; you are spending too much 
money." And do not, as you value your 
peace of mind, interfere between relatives, 
which is to put your fingers between the 
bark and the tree. 

Virginia Van de Water tells us that, "There 
is a time-worn phrase which warns us that 
it is a dangerous matter to put a finger 
between the bark and the tree. Like many 
adages, this is so old that we seldom pause 
to consider the truth and wisdom it contains. 
There are in life many relations that are as 
close and natural as that of the bark and 
the tree. Husband and wife, brother and 
sister, parent and child, are connected by a 
bond with which the stranger intermeddleth 
not ; or if he is so unwary as to intermeddle, 
a pinched finger is almost sure to be the re- 
sult of his interference. Few of us will toler- 
ate the most well-meant suggestion with re- 
gard to the proper behavior of those we love. 
A case in point was brought to my notice 
a few days ago. A sister was sadly dis- 
appointed at the betrothal of a favorite 
brother to a girl who, while perfectly good 
and decidedly pretty, was absolutely unin- 
tellectual and uninteresting. She expressed 
her disappointment at George's choice to a 
near friend. The friend, with the best in- 



The Givers of Advice. 183 

tentions in the world, sympathized after 
this fashion, — 

lC( I am so sorry that George has made 
such a choice. It is too bad ! After all you 
have done for that boy I should think he 
would have some consideration for you. I 
call it ingratitude and abominable selfish- 
ness on his part.' 

"Whereat the lately disappointed sister 
veered about with a rapidity that amazed 
her listener. 

"'Ingratitude and selfishness! It is 
nothing of the kind ; for there was never a 
more thoughtful or considerate brother than 
George has always been. And as to his 
future wife — he is to marry her, and has 
chosen her because he loves her. I really 
suppose even I have no right to be disap- 
pointed. He is satisfied, and that is enough. ' 

c ' The person accustomed to the vagaries of 
mankind will, if taken into the family secrets 
of his friend, be careful to sympathize cau- 
tiously, praise diplomatically, and refrain 
from all censure. A wife may be so far for- 
getful of self-respect and honor as to com- 
plain of her husband. Her listener, while 
pitying her, must not express dislike or dis- 
approval of the recreant spouse, unless she 
would bring down upon her the wrath of 
the abused wife. To do man justice, he sel- 
dom discusses with his most intimate friend 
the foibles of his wife. In this matter his 
sense of honor is perhaps finer than that of 



184 The Art of Being Agreeable. 

the average woman. But if a husband for- 
gets the traditions of his class and confides 
his conjugal infelicities to some acquaint- 
ance, let her beware of how she accepts this 
confidence. Unless the disagreement is so 
serious as to lead to open separation or di- 
vorce, the husband is certain to swing back 
to his allegiance to his wife, the keeper of 
his home and the mother of his children. 
And in the self-disgust following upon his 
return to his normal condition, he will hate 
the indiscreet friend who allowed him to 
speak unkindly of the best woman in the 
world. 

"We cannot snub the acquaintance who 
brings us her complaint against husband, 
brother, sister, or parent. But we can re- 
frain from criticism or the utterance of a de- 
cided opinion. When one is placed in this 
awkward position she must needs have the 
wisdom of the serpent and the seeming 
guilelessness of the dove. 

' l The bark clings to the tree in spite of the 
meddling and officious poking and prying 
of weak ringers. These pull at the bark un- 
til it seems to yield a little, but it springs 
back with a force and suddenness that 
abrade the flesh and start the blood. A 
tremendous effort may tear all the bark 
from the parent trunk, in which case the tree, 
bereft of the close and natural protection, 
will probably die. " 

It is a homely adage, brusque and terse, 



The Givers of Advice. 185 

and not usually sounded in ears polite, but 
there is golden wit and good sense in the 
words ' ' Mind your own business ! " For, 
if you do mind it seriously and constantly 
you will know when and of whom and in 
what manner to seek advice and when you 
receive it you will value it at its true worth. 
In some relations we not only seek advice 
but pay generously to have it given, as 
when we ask the doctor to come to our 
relief and are willing to pay his fee over 
and over for the sake of the service he does 
us. We pay for suggestions from those who 
know more than we do in certain fields of 
science ; we are glad to be legally counselled 
when our property is threatened, or a 
boundary line is to be settled, or there 
comes a question of deeds and titles. When 
advice is a matter of business interest, it is 
wholly unlike gratuitous advice, which if 
you would be loved and esteemed you 
would better keep strictly to yourself. 



1 86 The Art of Being Agreeable, 



MEN, WOMEN, AND SOCIETY. 

Whether or not we care very much about 
society depends largely on our degree of 
animal spirits. A perfectly healthy, well- 
balanced mind does not avoid its fellows. 
When people desire to live as hermits and 
recluses, it is an indication that they are 
not quite well in every respect. 

The Bible word "Thou shalt be made 
whole, " in reference to health, is very sug- 
gestive. At the same time it must be ad- 
mitted that many excellent people of do- 
mestic tastes prefer their own homes and 
their own circles to a larger group of friends 
outside. Mr. Junius Henri Browne, writ- 
ing on this subject, says in an article pub- 
lished in Harpers Bazar : — 

It may seem strange to doubt that men 
enjoy society, when it could not exist with- 
out them, and when they always form part 
of it. But this may very well be without 
any enjoyment on their side. While many 
men doubtless like society, the bulk of them 
do not, and frankly acknowledge the fact, 
though not, of course, to their host or 
hostess, which would be an unpardonable 
rudeness. We are all compelled by social 



Men, Women, and Society. 187 

laws to suppress truth sometimes ; polite- 
ness being held by them as paramount to 
everything else. If men dislike society, why 
do they go into it? may naturally be asked. 

They go into it because their sweethearts, 
sisters, wives, all their feminine kindred and 
friends go, and are determined that they 
shall go too. 

What woman wills in regard to the other 
sex, she is apt to carry out ; what she greatly 
wants she is apt to get And she certainly 
wills and earnestly wants that men shall 
perform their share in society by frequenting 
it when she does, and by appearing in com- 
pany with her. This fully explains and rec- 
onciles their incongruity. 

Nearly all men, husbands particularly, 
know how energetically and continually 
they are importuned on that subject. It is 
useless for them to declare society in gen- 
eral a supreme bore ; that they hate it, and 
hate it more and more, the more they see of 
it ; that it is an intolerable nuisance, with 
similar extravagances to which we men are 
prone w T hen badgered about anything. Wo- 
man understands perfectly how to deal 
with such cases ; she is used to them ; how- 
everviolent, they disturb not her a bit. In the 
first place, she does not believe that we 
speak the exact truth on that topic ; that we 
grossly exaggerate at least; that we cannot 
feel what we say. Naturally enough. She is 
so fond of society herself, and whatever per- 



1 88 The Art of Being Agreeable. 

tains to it, that she cannot regard it as tire- 
some, as positively disagreeable. She is sure 
that there is a mistake somewhere. It is 
always very hard for her to think anything 
unpleasant which she regards as pleasant, or 
to have any of her favorite opinions contro- 
verted. Besides, society is, to her, a change, 
a relief, a recreation, unless she has an 
excess of it. She cannot comprehend why 
we should find it the reverse of these ; and 
she is confident that two or three hours 
passed in somebody else's drawing-room, 
with lights and flowers, conversation and 
refreshments, music and gay company, will 
refresh and delight us. It ought to perhaps ; 
but does it ? 

Woman often contends that going into 
society is a duty, which men will not admit, 
unless it be a duty to be bored. She main- 
tains that they have no right to be bored by 
it, and they would not be if they were con- 
stituted as they should be. This kind of ar- 
gument, especially feminine, is difficult to 
meet. She also holds that for men to go out 
frequently, regularly during the season, is an 
-obligation to her personally and to the sex ; 
that they who do not go out cannot esteem, 
appreciate, or even care for women. 

Men laugh at this idea ; deny it stoutly ; 
assert that meeting women socially tends to 
create a prejudice against them rather than 
in their favor. Women, it is claimed, ap- 
pear to disadvantage in society ; are never 



Men, Women, and Society. 189 

seen at their best ; lose there much of their 
fine quality and individual charm. They 
are of directly opposite opinion, considering- 
themselves most attractive, most dangerous 
to masculine peace, when in elaborately 
dressed,elegant, brilliant company. As they 
assuredly try then to appear at their very 
best, they naturally think that they do so 
appear. But may not the extraordinary 
effort they make interfere with their object ? 
Are they not most interesting-, most winning* 
when free from any ambition to shine, when 
in comparative repose, when least conscious 
of themselves ? 

There is scarcely a rational doubt that the 
sexes differ radically about the allurements 
of society. It is almost as rare to find a 
man who enjoys it for its own sake as to 
find a woman who does not. He can no 
more tell why she likes it, than she can tell 
why he dislikes it ; and, as we have seen, 
she cannot be convinced that his dislike 
is sincere. She catechizes him closely ; she 
labors hard to get at the significance of 
his objections ; she is anxious to expose his 
fallacies. She is inclined to maintain, as a 
general proposition, that a man that hates 
society hates women who are devoted to it ; 
who are its keepers and guardians, its inspir- 
ing element, its very soul. Of course he will 
not agree to that. He holds the deduction to 
be wholly illogical, as it evidently is. While 
the majority of men would unquestionably 



190 The Art of Being Agreeable. 

keep out of society, in its conventional sense, 
if they were let alone, if they were allowed 
to have their own way, they could scarcely 
be prevailed on to keep away from woman, 
io whom they gravitate by nature's law. 

Dr. Holland, who had a way of getting at 
the bottom of things which few men of our 
time have surpassed, speaks of the dislike of 
certain people for society as existing very 
widely among students and thoughtful men. 
He says that those who confine themselves 
within doors and exhaust their nervous 
energy in thought and composition, receiv- 
ing no vigor from the open air, are neces- 
sarily without an overflow of spirits. In 
other words, they have lost the disposition to 
play. 

We find this in hard-working men whose 
energies are absorbed by business, m farm- 
ers, whose toil is all day monotonous and 
irksome, bowing the back and taking from 
the mind the elasticity which it once had. 
If you have ever noticed in reading memoirs 
of men who have been largely in the public 
eye, the first volume is full of exhilaration, 
hope and ecstasy ; but the second volume, 
when the men have grown middle-aged and 
sadder, has none of that overflowing vitality, 
and is often more largely a record of home 
life and solitary musing than of a blithe and 
bright going to and fro. 

So we find the gay girl. After she mar- 
ries and the burden of motherhood comes 



Men, Women, and Society. 191 

upon her, she becomes careless of society, 
not seeking it any more or striving to make 
herself happy in it. Then, too, there are 
people who do not know quite how to act 
in certain circumstances. They find them- 
selves, from having stayed too much at 
home and from having lived largely out of 
the world, ill at ease and strangers when 
they come into a social circle. 

If these good people would only accept 
my word for it, they would believe that there 
is no great art after all in practising the 
requisite conventionalities. You go to a 
house, you speak to your hostess, you look 
interested, you answer what is said to you, 
you observe what is going on, and you come 
away, always remembering to take a kind 
leave of your entertainer, and that is all 
there is about it. 

No one can fail to receive benefit from go- 
ing into society more or less, and if we do 
not wish to become fossils we must come 
out from our shelves, accept invitations, and 
mingle with our kind. To quote from Dr. 
Holland again : 

" You must contrive some scheme for 
meeting society half-way. You are unlike 
most men who shun society if you do not feel 
that it does not quite do its duty to you, in 
not coming after you. You retire into your- 
self, you take no pains to show that you 
possess the slightest social value, you do not 
even exhibit that interest in humanity gen- 



192 The Art of Being Agreeable. 

erally, or in the community in which you 
live, that leads you to efforts on their be- 
half, yet, somehow, you feel that society 
ought to find you out, and bring you out, 
and make itself agreeable and valuable to 
you. You may rest assured that society will 
never do any such thing. I know that you 
have no native impulse to social communion 
— that the spirit of play about which I have 
talked is gone out of you even if you ever 
possessed it — but that which most men do 
by impulse or natural desire, you must do 
by direct purpose, and as a matter of duty. 
And you must do this at once. The pen- 
alty of failure is the gradual dwarfing of 
yourself and the sacrifice of all power to in- 
fluence others. You have a laudable desire 
to be something and to do something in the 
world, and know that you have w 7 ithin you 
the ability necessary to accomplish your 
purposes, but without social sympathy, you 
will never know what to do, or how to do 
for the world, and the world will find it im- 
possible to understand and receive you. " 

Society is ideally excellent and admirable 
when it includes people of all ages. If it is 
made up wholly of the young it is crude and 
unsatisfying ; if it is made up wholly of the 
old it settles down into a very slow-going, 
un progressive affair. 

Youth and age must continually meet. 
There must be a common ground where they 
can mingle, and this can be found nowhere 



Men, Women, and Society. 193 

better than in the drawing-room, where 
charming people of all ages come together 
on an equal plane. 

One of the pleasantest evenings I ever 
spent was in the home of a friend, whose 
mother, a beautiful woman past her eighti- 
eth year, received the guests most gra- 
ciously, every one who had a smile and a 
word from her feeling as if he or she had been 
especially blessed. 

The daughter, a gracious and elegant 
woman, unmarried, not because she had not 
been sought, but for the reason that she 
preferred her own independence, gathered 
about her a company of men and women, 
some noted in art, others distinguished in 
literature, still other gay girls just introduced 
to society, and young men at home from 
college on their vacations. 

There were games, in which we all took 
part. There was much delightful conversa- 
tion. We had a little music. We had a 
supper which the girls cooked and the men 
served. It was just before Christmas, and 
a little stocking was hung up in the chimney 
corner for every guest. We had conun- 
drums, enigmas, and all sorts of merry jests, 
and before we parted we all sang a lovely 
good-night hymn. 

Seldom in any home have I witnessed 
anything more beautiful and more distinc- 
tive than this little company ; and the glory 
of it nil was the dear mother who sat in her 

*3 



194 The Art of Being Agreeable. 

corner of the sofa like a queen upon her 
throne. When society is most agreeable 
and gives us of its best, we may always ex- 
pect to find in it men and women of all ages 
from eighteen to eighty. 



Grown-up Sons and Daughters. 195 



GROWN-UP SONS AND DAUGHTERS. 

There comes a point in life when people 
drop childhood and find themselves face to 
face with the problems and difficulties of 
life. Every one of us has to live life for our- 
selves ; no one can take our place or do our 
w r ork. Fathers are apt to forget that sons 
reach an hour when they must be allowed 
to choose their own paths, and mothers 
often are the last to realize that the little 
girl whom they have loved in the nursery 
and guarded so carefully through her child- 
hood is now herself a woman. 

When it comes to choosing a career, let 
the parents advise wisely, but let them be- 
ware of forcing upon the children a lot in 
life which will not be for the child's advan- 
tage or pleasure. In the old days a daugh- 
ter never thought of making a home for her- 
self away from her parents' roof, unless she 
married and went to the house of her hus- 
band. Nothing is now more common than 
for a young woman who has acquired a pro- 
fession or art, and is self-supporting, to de- 
sire a home of her own, perhaps in conjunc- 
tion with several friends. 

I do not like the phrase ''bachelor girl," 



196 The Art of Being Agreeable. 

and prefer the old-fashioned " spinster " as 
descriptive of the single woman ; and in the 
little spinster homes of which I know — cozy 
apartments where women make a nest for 
themselves, and where they have their own 
background, whence they go forth to their 
work — I have seen some of the sweetest 
home life of which I have any knowledge. 

If a girl arrives at a point when she can- 
not possibly be happy at home, when the 
restraints of home are irksome, and she 
longs for independence and a career, by all 
means, provided she has reached maturity, 
by which I do not mean any age under 
thirty, let her pitch her tent for herself. 

If a son is thoroughly unfit for his father's 
business and longs for an artistic career, let 
him be gratified if possible. There are too 
many misfits in life, and this is at the root 
of a great deal of life's discontent. The 
person who defined happiness as satisfac- 
tion with ones environment was not very 
far wrong. 

When we see the man who ought to be 
driving a plough attempting to fill a place in 
the pulpit, or the mechanic wearily plodding 
on in the law, or any other evident failure 
among our friends, we may not always 
know the reasons which have led to the 
state of things, but they lie quite often in 
mistaken ambition. 

One of the questions usually asked a boy 
when he is growing up is, ''What are you 



Grozvn-up Sons and Daughters, 197 

going to be ? " It is not possible for a boy or 
girl in the period of adolescence to know 
just what life they will lead, but we may 
set it down as a maxim that parents should 
let grown-up sons and daughters choose 
their own course and manage their lives, as 
far as possible, to please themselves. Au- 
thority ceases with the necessity for con- 
stant protection, yet we have known mid- 
dle-aged women and men who still sought 
in all things parental guidance and counsel. 
This is entirely as it should be, but there 
should not be anything like dictation after 
maturity is reached. 

Especially are parents apt to meddle in 
the love affairs of grown-up sons and daugh- 
ters. One hears again and again the old 
complaint, " I am w T eary of my life because 
of the daughters of Heth." What ! can it be 
that the boy who has been the idol of the 
mother's heart through all the early years is 
about to throw himself away on a girl who 
to the mother's eyes is more than common- 
place, when " He might have," she proudly 
thinks, " chosen his pick from all the women 
in the land ! " 

The more she frets, the more she opposes, 
the more she is disturbed about the choice, 
probably the stronger will be the bond 
which loyalty and affection will weave 
about the girl, whom the young man clings 
to all the more steadfastly that his people do 
not care for her. 



198 The Art of Being Agreeable. 

Surely, if one ever has a right to exercise 
one's own prerogative, it is in the selection 
of a comrade for life ; and yet children 
would do well to trust the love which has 
been theirs during life's storms and sunshine, 
and at least not to act in haste or upon im- 
pulse. Where there is opposition, it is not 
a bad plan to delay for a little the consum- 
mation of the engagement. No great harm 
can be done by a period of waiting, during 
which the young people may become better 
acquainted, while the older ones may with- 
draw their opposition. 

The young man and the young woman, 
coming from different families and forming 
a new home, will naturally find themselves 
under a fire of criticism, and it is quite likely 
that the relations-in-law on both sides may 
not entirely approve of the new connection, 
but, if there be true love, after a while every- 
thing will adjust itself. 

Rev. James C. Fernald says, " The com- 
ing of true love changes the whole life of a 
young man, his best earnings and his earli- 
est savings often beginning from that time. 
It is astonishing how those imprudent mar- 
riages so often turn out well, where the 
worthy youth and maiden, with no capital 
but their hands and brains and knowledge 
of honest work and love for one another, 
sail out together on life's ocean in life's 
springtime." 

It is to be doubted if any man has ever 



Grown-up Sons and Daughters. 199 

greatly influenced the world for good who 
has not had back of all achievements the 
deep, pure love of woman — mother, sister, 
wife, or perhaps the wife that might have 
been. Woman's wealth of affection makes 
her often a wonderful helper in ways that 
would have been least expected. In emer- 
gencies there will be found none wiser in 
counsel nor readier in resource than a sensi- 
ble mother or wife. Her love is stronger than 
death. The man's heart harboring it says, 
"There is goodness and hope in the world 
and in me so long as such love is possible 
for me, and every noble energy in me rises 
up to be worthy of that one pure and noble 
affection. " 

When fathers and mothers have any mer- 
cenary reason, or, because they have looked 
higher for their children, object to the course 
of true love, they are putting an obstacle in 
the path of Divine Providence, and are in- 
curring a very great danger. There is first 
the danger of alienation, 

" The little rift within the lute 

That by and by may make the music mute." 

There is next the peril that even if recon- 
ciliation comes there will always be the 
memory of the wound — some wounds leave 
deep scars. The pitcher that is mended 
may stand on the shelf, but it can never 
again go to the well. In our home life we 
need, of all things, to guard against quarrels 



200 The Art of Being Agreeable. 

and recrimination, and disagreeable words 
and looks which may linger and haunt us 
to our dying day. 

In another chapter we have referred to 
the Gurneys of Earlham. One of the 
sisters of this family, Richenda, married a 
clergyman and became Mrs. Cunningham. 
She possessed a wonderful power for at- 
tracting young people to her. Of her home 
it was said, " No other place is like it in its 
freedom, its wonderful activity, its thought- 
ful kindness, and its truly parental care 
over everybody. Everything was marked 
by generosity and truest charity. Not only 
nieces and nephews were welcome here, 
but the Cunninghams made so sunshiny a 
house for themselves that all young people 
rejoiced to be with them, and in a sense 
they were parents to those not of their own 
flesh and blood." Some of us have met 
people who have this beautiful gift of at- 
tracting to them those to whom their per- 
sonality is in itself a benediction. 

Every home should widen itself out suffi- 
ciently to include at times in its merry-mak- 
ings and in its ordinary course the friends 
of its children. Nothing is more pleasant 
than to see a house filled to the overflow 
with young people, the boys and girls freely 
bringing their friends to their parents' table 
and to the family gatherings. 

This can never be possible in homes 
where the parents lose touch with their 



Grown-up Sons and Daughters. 201 

children. No other thing keeps us so young" 
as sympathy with the young, and as parents 
and children go together hand in hand 
through the years, they are making for 
themselves a wealth of associations which 
will dignify and delight every year of their 
lives. 

One sometimes sees instances in which 
children who have had better education and 
advantages than their parents are desirous of 
keeping the latter in the background. There 
has been something radically wrong in home 
training which can permit such a thing as 
this. The most disgreeable sight in the 
world is a daughter ashamed of or apologetic 
for her father and mother, or a son who 
seeks to hide the plainness of the family 
life from which he sprang. 

Some years ago while visiting in a South- 
ern town quite back from the railroad, I 
found myself the kind object of solicitude 
on the part of some <9j. the townspeople, 
who w r ere good enough to call. One day 
I received a call from two beautiful young- 
ladies, who were profuse in their kind in- 
vitations and offers to show me all the 
beauties of the place. A few days later I 
returned their visit. 

While seated in the drawing-room, where 
the open windows gave a view r of the lawn 
and a glimpse of well-kept flower-beds, I 
noticed hovering in the dim distance of the 
back parlor a little quaint old lady, who 



202 The Art of Being Agreeable. 

wavered back and forth like a timid shadow. 
She evidently wished to come in, but did 
not like to advance into the room where her 
daughters and their guest were, and although 
once or twice she came almost to the 
middle of the room, no encouragement was 
given by the girls to approach nearer. 

Although I said nothing, I suppose my 
face revealed my thoughts and my solicitude 
about this old lady, for presently one of the 
young women smiled and said, "You need 
not mind mother ; we never ask her to come 
in when we have company." Evidently 
they wanted to keep their poor mother out 
of sight, and my opinion of them sank very 
low from that moment. 

Most people have sufficient tact to refrain 
from showing so plainly a weakness of this 
kind, but where one finds in any family one 
member ashamed of another, one may 
be sure that there has been at some time 
or other a great lack in the home at- 
mosphere and a great want in the home 
training. 

Our whole land has rejoiced when, as it 
has happened more than once, a man of the 
people has been raised to the highest sta- 
tion. Such men as Lincoln, Garfield and 
McKinley, to say nothing of others less con- 
spicuous, confer an honor upon us by the 
recognition which they have given of the 
home training and love which have been 
about them always. The manner in which 



Grown-up Sons and Daughters. 203 

they have shown honor to their mothers 
has won the true regard of all the people. 

We may be sure that when sons and 
daughters come to great distinction that 
the mother who bore them and the father 
who was their earliest example have had 
good sense all the way, not only in child- 
hood but afterward. The mother of Frances 
Willard said to her one day, when the gifted 
younger woman was hesitating about enter- 
ing on some work which had offered itself, 
"My daughter, when God opens a door for 
you, never hesitate about walking through 
it. " Such mothers do not hold their children 
back ; they urge them forward, and they 
share whatever triumphs come to the younger 
generation. 



204 The Art of Being Agreeable. 



TACT. 

Tact means touch. When we are in touch 
with people we understand that we have a 
peculiar sympathy, that there is a thrill which 
goes from heart to heart and from hand to 
hand. When we are not in touch with 
people, they jar upon us, and we are un- 
happy in their company. When we are 
truly in touch with a friend we may sit in 
that friend's house in perfect silence and an 
hour may pass in which we say no word 
and hear nothing, but the friend knows and 
we know that everything is all right. 

Tact in society is that fine delicacy of 
feeling which keeps us from making blunders 
and which sets everyone at ease. To some 
extent tact is innate. There are people 
highly gifted with this quality ; others ac- 
quire it by the exercise of thought and care. 

The tactful person does not say the wrong 
thing at the wrong moment. If the tactful 
person pays a compliment it is suited to the 
person and the occasion ; and in fact tact is 
the oil upon the waters which keeps every- 
thing in society smooth and peaceful. 

I suppose you have heard that in a literal 
way oil poured upon the ocean waves will 



Tact, 205 

calm them when they are in great agitation. 
Steamers going to sea sometimes carry with 
them profusion of oil, to be used in case of 
a tempest, and as they pour it out upon the 
perturbed waves, they become calm and 
still. So often there is need that oil should 
be gently poured on the agitated waters of 
life. 

Who has not at a breakfast table heard a 
querulous word or observed how quickly 
and with what sweet and loving tact the 
mother turns it aside? Who has not known 
In certain circles how beloved and welcome 
is the young girl or the young man who al- 
ways may be depended upon for smoothing 
out difficulties and making everything move 
pleasantly along ? 

In the old fairy tales there were spiteful 
elves who delighted in setting tasks which 
were hard to do, such as giving a poor prin- 
cess a heap of feathers of all kinds which 
were to be sorted and set in order, or a great 
tangle of silks to unwind or some other 
equally difficult task to perform ; and then 
very often there would come in the good 
fairy, who, with a little touch here and a 
little touch there would set all the feathers 
in the places where they belonged, unravel 
the tangled heaps of silk, finish the work 
which was so hard, and presently let the 
prisoner go smiling forth with everything 
done which she had been set to do. 

The good fairy in modern life is tact. Tact 



206 The Art of Being Agreeable, 

does not feel called upon ever to say a dis- 
agreeable thing. Is tact therefore insincere, 
and must we say that the tactful person is 
of necessity untrue? There is an erroneous 
opinion abroad to this effect, and we some- 
times hear people say, "Oh, I am a plain, 
outspoken sort of woman ; I always speak 
my mind with great frankness. You may 
know where to find me ; I always say what 
I think." 

Dear lady, you have no right on all occa- 
sions to say just what you think ; it is often 
the better plan to keep your thoughts very 
much to yourself. Make it your rule in life 
never needlessly to say an unpleasant thing; 
say a sweet and bright thing if you can truly 
do so and leave the others aside. 

There is a sort of candor which is mere 
brutality and which cannot be justified by 
any canon of human law, and on which we 
are sure the dear Lord does not smile. I am 
not called upon to comment on the defects 
of my friends. It may be my duty to my 
own children, in privacy, and with great 
care not needlessly to wound their feelings, 
to tell them of something I see in them that 
is wrong and may be amended ; but as a 
rule it is wise not to go through the world 
telling people of their faults. 

The tactful mistress does not reprove her 
maids before anyone. The tactful wife 
passes over the little friction, the moment- 
ary irritation, which another would have 



Tact. 2QJ 

noticed and which would have produced a 
breeze, if not a gale, in the house. The tact- 
ful friend finding his friend a little blue and 
out of sorts does not comment upon it, but 
calls attention to some pleasant thing. 

Better than beauty, better than jewels, 
better than any other gift of which we know 
is the blessed gift of tact, which lightens all 
drudgery, makes home delightful, and fills 
the social hour and the drawing-room with 
a charm beyond the power of words to ex- 
press. Of the tactful person it may be said, 

She doth little kindnesses 
Which most leave undone or despise, 

For naught that sets one's heart at ease, 
Or giveth happiness or peace, 

Is low esteemed in her eyes. 

One reason among others why it is pleas- 
ant for young people to have a chaperon 
when they go on merry-makings and excur- 
sions, as is now the custom among all well- 
bred people, is that an older woman has 
tact and can meet emergencies as young 
girls cannot be expected to. Time was 
when in the newness of our country great 
freedom was allowed in the intercourse of 
the sexes, and young men and maidens 
scorned the idea of a duenna, or of any over- 
sight from parents and friends. 

We have advanced far enough now to 
understand that it is always safer and pleas- 
anter not to be separated into herds of young 
and old, but for the younger and the older to 



2o8 The Art of Being Agreeable. 

mix up and have their pleasures in common. 
Superior age and a longer experience, with 
greater knowledge of human nature, enables 
the older woman or the woman who is mar- 
ried to know just what to do and say on 
occasions which might prove embarrassing 
to younger people. 

To do our American young people justice, 
they have usually a good deal of self-respect 
and of common sense. I think they may 
be trusted to do the right thing in most 
cases, but in our large cities, where we have 
a shifting foreign population, where people 
have come from the old world with low 
ideals of womanhood, where it is possible 
that a young, pure girl away from her 
mother's wing may receive insult and not 
know just how to meet it, there is a certain 
measure of safety in being accompanied by 
mother or aunt or some friendly older person 
when on a journey. At the same time, 
where there is no chaperon let the young 
girl act with so much discretion that none 
will be necessary. 

Tact is perhaps more purely a feminine 
than a masculine quality. Women have 
more finesse, are apt to understand a situ- 
ation more quickly, and do not need to have 
everything told outright as men do. We 
see this even in boys and girls. Teachers 
will tell you that the faults of boys are more 
on the surface, that they are more direct in 
everything than girls are, and that girls are 



Tact. 209 

a little harder to manage because they are 
more susceptible to emotion and have little 
reserves and concealments which are not 
possible to their brothers. 

We must not confound tact with insincer- 
ity, and yet the one danger to which the 
tactful person is exposed is that sometimes, 
in the desire to avoid giving offence and in 
the well-meant intention to keep everything 
smooth and happy, she may perhaps in- 
fringe upon the exact truth. 

Of all the tactful and bewitching people, 
the one who wins my heart beyond any 
other is the dear, manly boy who has had a 
mother's training, and who goes through the 
home thoughtfully, though merrily, whose 
whole life is a beautiful thing because it is so 
cheery and so sweet. Of such a boy, years 
ago, I wrote the verses which follow : 

I knew him for a gentleman 

By signs that never fail ; 
His coat was rough and rather worn, 

His cheeks were thin and pale — 
A lad who had his way to make. 

With little time to play ; 
I knew him for a gentleman 

By certain signs to-day. 

He met his mother on the street ; 

Off came his little cap. 
My door was shut ; he waited there 

Until I heard his rap. 
He took the bundle from my hand, 

And when I dropped my pen 
He sprang to pick it up for me — 

This gentleman of ten. 



14 



210 The Art of Being Agreeable. 

He does not push and crowd along ; 

His voice is gently pitched; 
He does not fling his books about 

As if he were bewitched. 
He stands aside to let you pass; 

He always shuts the door ; 
He runs on errands willingly 

To forge and mill and store. 

He thinks of you before himself, 

He serves you if he can ; 
For, in whatever company, 

The manners make the man. 
At ten or forty, 'tis the same : 

The manner tells the tale, 
And I discern the gentleman 

By signs that never fail. 



Purity of Speech. 2 1 1 



PURITY OF SPEECH. 

It is so easy to drop into the use of slang-, 
and so much is our speech a matter of imi- 
tation, that many of us fail to speak with the 
purity which we admire. There are certain 
objectionable forms which one hears from 
people who know very much better, as, for 
example, when a person tells you that "Mrs. 
Hamilton invited Robert and I to dine with 
her last night/' It should have been, of 
course, " Robert and me." 

People from whom you do not expect 
such slipshod English say, ' ' He hadn't ought 
to have done this or that," and such forms 
as "ain't" and "don't." "Don't" being- 
used with the singular nominative ; "ain't " 
being; wholly inexusable, are so frequently 
heard, from children particularly, that one 
wonders where the schoolmaster can be. 

Many people have a way of using foolish 
exclamations, such as "Great Scott ! " and 
"By Jove." Others, sliding rapidly down- 
hill, introduce into their ordinary talk forms 
which are almost profane. In my youth I 
was taught that all such expressions as 
"goodness" and "mercy" were touching 
upon the attributes of God, and should not 



2 12 1 he A rt of Being Agreeable. 

be used in common conversation. All sorts 
of slang, such as "You make me tired," 
"It is too thin/' and the like, are violations 
of purity of speech. 

A writer in the TJie Outlook, speaking of 
this subject, remarks that it is by training 
the observing faculty that we accomplish 
wonders in the education of our children. 

A lady was talking with a bright, clever 
girl, who at school had made a study of 
words and prided herself on her freedom 
from the use of slipshod English. The lady 
said, "What a strange expression that is, 
'thinks, says 1/ " " Why," said the young 
girl, "I never heard it; it is an impossible 
expression." 

The lady did not say "Why, you your- 
self sometimes use it," but she said, "Listen 
to others, and then tell me what you think." 
I was told that the next day the young girl 
came to her kind critic and said, "Mrs. 
Blank, I not only heard Edythe Parks say 
* Thinks, says 1/ but I heard myself say it. 
I was so surprised." 

A boy of ten was playing with a boy of 
seven, whose mother did not think him 
physically strong enough to bear the stimu- 
lating atmosphere of school life. Finally, 
the boy of ten began to crow over the boy 
of seven, saying, i4 Funny you can't spell 
that word in that book ! You had ought to 
go to school. It ain't a hard word to spell. 
Why, I can spell enough sight harder words 



Purity of Speech. 213 

'an that. I wish you could hear f um. I 
study gography an' grammer. You don't 
know nothing 'bout 'rithmetic, I 'spose. 
You wasn't ever at school." And so on. 
I heard many expressions which were far 
from being good English. 

It is not because w r e do not know better 
that we make mistakes : it is simply for the 
reason that we are careless and that we 
6uffer in ourselves the use of language which 
a little thought w r ould keep us from falling 
into. 

We should talk less and say more, and be 
less frivolous in our conversation if we made 
it a rule to think before speaking, instead 
of afterwards. If two shorthand writers, 
placed behind a curtain, were to take down 
the conversation at a single afternoon tea, 
and publish it in the newspaper next morn- 
ing, the talkers would see with shame an 
illustration of the truth of Pope's lines — 

" Words are like leaves ; and where they most abound 
Much fruit of sense beneath is rarely found." 

It is recorded of good old Latimer, that, 
when examined before Bonner, at first he 
answered without much thought and care ; 
but presently, hearing the rustling of a pen 
behind the curtain, he perceived that they 
were taking down every word of his defence. 
Stopping, he thus apostrophized himself; 
"Oh Latimer, Latimer! thy words are be- 



214 The Art of Being Agreeable. 

ing put on record. Thou must take heed 
what thou art saying ! " 

In certain parts of our country it is cus- 
tomary for people to drop the final tl g." 
They say " mornin' " and " evenin' " Our 
vocabularies are limited because we do not 
read enough. The habit of reading good 
books forms in us a habit of seeing and 
mentally hearing the best language. 

Perhaps many persons have had their 
ordinary speech somewhat vitiated by too 
much reading of realistic stories, written 
colloquially and in dialect. Formerly people 
were more stately, and one seldom heard 
the lapses among educated people which 
one hears now. 

Every one should determine to be familiar 
with some of the best books. She will find, 
with Macaulay, that ''Books are better than 
all the tarts and cakes, toys and plays, and 
sights in the world. If anybody would make 
me the greatest king that ever lived, with 
palaces and gardens and fine dinners, and 
wine and coaches and beautiful clothes and 
hundreds of servants, on condition that I 
would not read books, I would not be a 
king. I would rather be a poor man in a 
garret with plenty of books than a king who 
did not love reading." 

In "Sesame and Lilies," Ruskin says : 

" Now, in order to deal with words rightly, 
this is the habit you must form. Nearly 
every word in your language has been first 



Purity of Speech. 2 1 5 

a word of some other language — of Saxon, 
German, French, Latin, or Greek (not to 
speak of eastern and primitive dialects). 
And many words have been all these ; — that 
is to say, have been Greek first, Latin next, 
French or German next, and English last ; 
undergoing a certain change of sense and 
use on the lips of each nation ; but retain- 
ing a deep vital meaning which all good 
scholars feel in employing them, even at 
this day. If you do not know the Greek 
alphabet, learn it ; young or old — girl or 
boy — whoever you may be, if you think of 
reading seriously (which, of course, implies 
that you have some leisure at command^, 
learn your Greek alphabet ; then get good 
dictionaries of all these languages, and when- 
ever you are in doubt about a word, hunt 
it down patiently. Read Max Mtiller's 
lectures thoroughly, to begin with; and, 
after that, never let a word escape you that 
looks suspicious. It is severe work ; but 
you will find it, even at first, interesting, 
and at last, endlessly amusing. And the 
general gain to your character, in power 
and precision, will be quite incalculable. 

li Mind, this does not imply knowing, or 
trying to know, Greek, or Latin, or French. 
It takes a whole life to learn any language 
perfectly. But you can easily ascertain the 
meanings through which the English word 
has passed ; and those which in a good 
writer's work it must still bear." 



216 The Art of Being Agreeable. 

He adds, "We make the worst possible 
use of our opportunities if we allow mere 
books of the hour to usurp the place of true 
books : for, strictly speaking, they are not 
books at all, but merely letters or newspapers 
in good print. Our friend's letter may be 
delightful, or necessary, to-day : whether 
worth keeping or not, is to be considered. 
The newspaper may be entirely proper at 
breakfast time, but assuredly it is not reading 
for all day. So, though bound up in a 
volume, the long letter which gives you so 
pleasant an account of the inns, and roads, 
and weather last year at such a place, or 
which tells you that amusing story, or gives 
you the real circumstances of such and such 
events, however valuable for occasional ref- 
erence, may not be, in the real sense of the 
word, a "book " at all, nor, in the real sense, 
to be "read." A book is essentially not a 
talked thing, but a written thing ; and 
written, not with the view of mere com- 
munication, but of permanence. The book 
of talk is printed only because its author 
cannot speak to thousands of people at once ; 
if he could, he would — the volume is mere 
multiplication of his voice. You cannot talk 
to your friend in India ; if you could, you 
would ; you write instead : that is mere 
conveyance of voice. But a book is written, 
not to multiply the voice merely, not to 
carry it merely, but to preserve it. The 
author has something to say which he per- 



Purity of Speech. 217 

ceives to be true and useful, or helpfully 
beautiful. So far as he knows, no one has 
yet said it ; so far as he knows, no one else 
can say it. 

Ian Maclaren remarks, in one of his 
lectures in "A Cure of Souls," that clergy- 
men should use simple words in their ser- 
mons, but also that they should occasionally 
use a beautiful word, which is like em- 
broidery upon their style. He remarks that 
people acquire something of their style of 
speech from the sermons they habitually 
hear. 

I was reminded of this not long ago in 
a public conveyance, where I heard two 
workingmen discussing the merits of an 
orator to whom they had listened. One 
said, ' * He speaks very well ; he uses straight, 
.short words which anybody can under- 
stand. " "But," said the other, "I like 
better to hear a man who has long, fine 
words which sound like a trumpet." 

It seems to me that the truth lay between 
the two men, and that we need in our 
common speech the best words we can find 
to convey our thought — sometimes the 
grand and sonorous, sometimes the simple 
and plain ; but we shall never be attractive 
if our ordinary speech is impure or if we 
violate our obligation to be respectful to the 
English tongue in which we were born. 



218 The Art of Being Agreeable, 



DEFERENCE TO THE OLD. 

The Seminole Indians, of whom a little 
remnant remains in Florida, have a beauti- 
ful way of treating- the aged among them, 
a way which we, more enlightened and 
civilized than the Seminoles, might well 
emulate. When in the little remnant of 
their tribe there is found a very old man or 
woman whose children and grandchildren 
perhaps have died, this person is treated as 
the most distinguished member of the tribe. 

He spends three months at a time as the 
guest of each family. While there he is 
treated with great distinction, the warmest 
corner by the fire, the best chair, the best 
food, and the best bed are given to him. 
The young people vie with each other in 
administering to his wants, and when the 
time comes that one visit is completed, he 
is escorted to the next house and received 
there as if he were a prince whose visit con- 
ferred a great favor upon the house to which 
he comes. 

Too often we forget to be deferential to 
the old. We grow impatient with the ex- 
actions of old people, forgetting that they 
are living in a lonely world, that those who 



Deference to the Old. 219 

were young" with them have passed away, 
and that the ranks of their friends have 
grown thin ; that it may be there is no one 
remaining who knew them in childhoods 
day r and who calls them by the familiar pet 
name which was once theirs. They have 
ceased to be Ed and Jack and Dick, they 
are Mr. So-and-So ; and while they live 
largely in the past, too often our pushing, 
present-day people have no time to spend 
with them. 

Some years ago in a little town in Massa- 
chusetts one summer day a very old wo- 
man was found drowned in a brook. The 
brook was so shallow that the poor old 
creature had been obliged to lie face down- 
ward in the water in order to put an end 
to the life of which she was so tired that 
her mind had given way beneath the 
strain. 

I was told that she lived in a family of 
relatives where they were good to her in all 
material ways, but where they had very 
little patience with her ; where, in fact, they 
grew tired of her meanderings over the past, 
where the daughters and granddaughters 
refused to let her take any share in the work 
of the house, and where she felt herself 
continually an incumbrance. At last life 
was too much for her, and slipping away 
when the family were at a picnic and she 
was left alone at home, she went to the little 
brook, laid down there and died. 



220 The Art of Being Agreeable, 

There is surely some great fault when old 
people are permitted to feel themselves thus 
neglected. A more beautiful quality than 
that of reverence cannot be found, and that 
our young people are largely deficient in this 
is a great pity and speaks badly for their 
bringing up. We need to cultivate the habit 
of deference to those older than ourselves, 
deference to their opinions, deference to 
their wishes, considerateness about their 
comfort. 

In the beautiful idyl of Ruth and Naomi, 
than which nothing more tender and beau- 
tiful can be found in literature, we see the 
desolate old woman — husband gone, sons 
gone — turning her face back to the home 
she had left years before. Her daughters- 
in-law, Ruth and Orpah, go with her to the 
hillside which bounds the land ofMoab, that 
they may take leave of her. At the last 
moment Orpah kisses her mother-in-law and 
leaves her, but Ruth refuses to be separated 
from the old, yet beloved, woman, into 
whose home she had come as the bride of 
Naomi's son. 

She says : " Entreat me not to leave thee, 
nor to return from following after thee, for 
whither thou goest I will go, where thou 
lodgest 1 will lodge, where thou diest I will 
die, and there will I be buried. God do so 
to me, and more also, if aught but death 
part thee and me." And so it has come to 
nass that, glistening like a £em in the canon 

1 o o o 



Deference to the Old. 221 

of sacred Scripture, we find the immortal 
story of Ruth. 

Longfellow says, in one of his beautiful 
lyrics, — 

" Long was the good man's sermon, 
But it seemed not so to me ; 
For I thought of Ruth, the beautiful, 
And then I thought of thee." 

And one of the sweetest pictures we possess 
anywhere in the annals of pastoral love is 
that of Ruth gleaning amid the alien corn. 
It is because she clung to age and weakness 
that she lives forever on the canvas of the 
sacred historian. 

We notice how cheerfully Ruth takes upon 
herself the management of their small house- 
keeping, after she and Naomi arrive at Beth- 
lehem, how she imparts to the older woman 
that she shall go out with the maidens and 
glean after the reapers, and how tenderly 
and deferentially she yields to the counsel 
of Naomi. Then later, when she marries 
Boaz and her child is born, it is to Naomi 
that they bring the little one, and holding 
this dear baby in her arms, Naomi is com- 
forted for all she has lost. 

I found the other day a tender little story 
about one who had been waiting a long 
time to go home to the dear one who had 
left her : 

"' Don't set down in that chair, dearie. 
Yer gran'pa'll be in pretty soon, an' he'll be 
tired after doin' all the chores. ' 



222 The Art of Being Agreeable, 

" The child, with a look of pity on her 
small, bright face, slipped out of the chair 
and ran in the pantry to her mother. 'Say, 
ma, she thinks he's comin' again to-night, 
an' she's fixhY the chair/ 

" 'Well, dear, don't notice it; the fancy 
don't seem to do her any harm as I see/ 

" Grandma drew the armchair a little 
nearer to her own, and smoothed out and 
patted the cushion over and over. 

" 'Yer gran'pa'll be tired an' cold; he's 
been out a good spell, an' he's lame. He 
allers is when the wind blows. It 'pears to 
take him a long time to do the chores. 
Sometimes I think mebbe he ain't so spry as 
he use to be ; but I reckon he'll be in in a 
mini-lit.' 

"She patted the cushion a little more, and 
then folding her handkerchief back and 
forth, she hummed a soft, quaint melody. 
Nearly four years had passed since her dear 
old husband had sat in his familiar place, 
but she lived in a sort of placid dream, not 
realizing the lapse of time, or grieving. Only 
when the wind blew hard enough to attract 
her attention she grew restless, dropping 
many stitches in her knitting ; and as twi- 
light came on she fancied he was out around 
the barns, and would soon be in, cold and 
weary. 

" She did not suffer from disappointment, 
for lights and supper mercifully made her 
forget how sad and fruitless was her wait- 



Deference to the Old. 223 

ing, and how long. But one March after- 
noon a furious storm was raging, and the 
wind came in rushes that made the house 
tremble. Grandma put aside her beloved 
knitting, which had so many ravelling 
stitches in it, and began earlier than usual 
to fix the chair and pat the cushion. 

1 1 i Yer gran'pa'll sartinly be chilled through 
doin' the chores to-night,' she said, in troub- 
led, quavering tones. ' I do hope hell be 
along in soon/ 

" The clouds settled down dark and heavy, 
and twilight came suddenly. ' Why, Wes- 
ley, I've been a-waitin' so long ! ' The 
voice rang out glad and clear. They 
brought lights hastily. Grandma was lean- 
ing back among her cushions, breathless 
and white, with a welcoming smile on her 
dear, sweet face." 

, Of one thing we may all be sure. W T e 
will never regret, or for a moment be sorry 
for, any kindness we have shown to the old. 
Little by little, with soft, imperceptible 
touches, the years are stealing away our 
youth. It always comes to us with a great 
shock when some younger person suddenly 
reveals to us the first knowledge that we no 
longer are in the company of the young ; 
that we have joined the great army of the 
old. 

"I cannot sit while an old lady stands," 
said a sweet young girl one day to a woman 
who had not even begun to think of herself 



224 The Art of Being Agreeable. 

as more than middle-aged, and it really gave 
her quite a turn. In our attentions to those 
who are older than ourselves it is well to 
employ a little tact, not emphasizing too 
greatly the difference between them and 
ourselves. 

I read some time ago a very interesting 
story of an old mother in New England, 
whose children were solicitous to save her 
every possible trouble. They never let her 
do a single thing. She was shielded from 
every rough wind. If she attempted to walk 
across the room, John or Mary was at hand, 
exclaiming, "What do you want, mother? 
Let me do that for you." 

She was in fact surrounded with atten- 
tions every minute of her life, yet somehow 
the old lady was unhappy and dissatisfied, 
and grew harder to please every day. One 
day there came a telegram to the house. 
Some member of the family at a distance 
had suddenly been taken ill, and it was im- 
perative that John and Mary should at once 
take the first train and haste to the assist- 
ance of the invalid. There was no time 
even to send to the next house for a neighbor 
to come in. Mother had to be left alone, 
and great was the grief about it. All in a 
rush and a flurry the young people got their 
things on and whirled away to the station. 

The moment they were fairly out of sight 
and the railroad whistle had shown that the 
train was off, mother, notwithstanding her 



Deference to the Old. 225 

threescore years and ten, jumped from her 
chair and executed a little jig of delight. 
Then she went upstairs, got all the soiled 
clothes in the house, came down, built a 
fire, put on the wash-boiler, and did w 7 ith the 
greatest glee an old-fashioned washing. 

When I read this, I remembered an old 
lady who had scandalized the neighbors by 
doing a similar thing in the absence of her 
niece with whom she lived. They saw a 
row of blankets on the line, and to their 
horror observed that the oldest lady in the 
house was superintending this unwonted 
laundry work. Bless her heart ! she was 
happy, even if it w r as too much for her. 

Let us be very considerate and very 
amiable and lovely in our whole demeanor 
toward those who are older than ourselves. 
Only thus shall we be really what we should 
be, and shall earn a right to expect in our 
turn consideration when we too grow old. 



" If mother would listen to me, dears, 

She would freshen that faded gown ; 
She would sometimes take an hour's rest, 

And sometimes a trip to town. 
And it shouldn't be all for the children, 

The fun, and the cheer, and the play ; 
With the patient droop on the tired mouth, 

And the * Mother has had her day ! ' 

" True, mother has had her day, dears, 
When you were her babies three, 
And she stepped about the farm and the house, 
As busy as ever a bee ; 

is 



226 The Art of Being Agreeable. 

When she rocked you all to sleep, dears, 

And sent you all to school, 
And wore herself out, and did without, 

And lived by the Golden Rule. 

"And so your turn has come, dears; 

Her hair is growing white ; 
And her eyes are gaining the far-away look 

That peers beyond the night. 
One of these days in the morning, 

Mother will not be here ; 
She will fade away into silence ; 

The mother so true and dear. 

" Then, what will you do in the daylight, 

And what in the gloaming dim ; 
And father, tired and lonesome then, 

Pray, what will you do for him ? 
If you want to keep your mother, 

You must make her rest to-day ; 
Must give her a share in the frolic, 

And draw her into the play. 

" And, if your mother would listen to me, dears, 

She'd buy her a gown of silk, 
With buttons of royal velvet, 

And ruffles as white as milk ; 
And she'd let you do the trotting, 

While she sat still in her chair. 
That mother should have it hard all through, 

It strikes me, isn't fair. 






A Talk about Clothes. 22J 



A TALK ABOUT CLOTHES. 

You fancied, my dear Mr. Gradgrind, that 
you were doing a very fine and independent 
thing when you humiliated your daughter by 
appearing at her college on commencement 
day in rough homespun clothing, with un- 
brushed hat, unpolished boots, and a general 
air of coarseness and disarrangment about 
your dress ; this, too, when it was well known 
that you were a man of large wealth, and 
that it was a mere eccentricity which made 
you, and always makes you, different from 
the people among whom you move, because 
you pride yourself on dressing just as you 
like. 

Far from doing a praiseworthy thing, you 
were trampling upon one of our most im- 
portant statutes in the social code. A 
thoroughly agreeable man or woman is 
always dressed appropriately for the function 
in which he or she shares, or for the business 
in hand. It would be quite absurd for you 
or me to wear evening-dress in the kitchen 
or in the furrow. An organdie gown, with 
trimmings of lace and chiffon, does not 
harmonize with the wash-tub ; nor. if the 
work in hand happens to be baking the 



228 The Art of Being Agreeable. 

week's bread do we invest ourselves with 
our most beautiful tailor-made gown, or our 
new and elegant silk and velvet dress. 

There is a fitness which should be con- 
sulted in all matters of clothing, and it is 
no virtue to despise one's raiment. Every 
one should dress as well as he can afford to. 
Shakespeare's dictum about clothing, to 
"have it as costly as thy purse can buy," 
is a very good one for us all, especially as 
things which are good to begin with outlast, 
by several times their price, the cheap imi- 
tation, which is ruined by a shower or faded 
by the sun, and which loses all semblance 
of elegance after a very short season's wear- 
ing. 

To impoverish ourselves, however, for 
finery, to wear things for which we cannot 
pay, to be in debt to our tailor and our 
dressmaker, is decidedly foolish and wicked. 
Always observing the proper degree of 
honesty and common-sense, however, we 
should dress as well as we can, and we owe 
it to our friends and to our neighbors to 
present a pleasing appearance to them when 
they meet us at home or abroad. 

Especially is it a good plan for every one 
to come to the table neatly and becomingly 
dressed. We should not come to our own 
dinner-table without making some effort to 
look fresh, neat, and tidy. Concerning this 
grace of tidiness, an interesting writer has 
said — 



A Talk about Clothes, 229 

1 ' In days gone by, before the new woman 
appeared upon the scene of action, girls 
were rigidly taught the good old-fashioned 
principle of tidiness. ' Neatness ' hardly 
expresses my meaning as well as does the 
quaint, old-time word. To be ' tidy/ Web- 
ster tells us, is to be 'arranged in good 
order; neat; kept in proper and becoming 
neatness/ Nowadays girls are neat to a 
certain extent and in a certain way. They 
bathe freely and wear clean clothes ; but are 
they tidy ? Frequently, they are not. Their 
hair is often loose and prone to tumble 
down, their gloves are sometimes ripped at 
the finger-tips, and one or two buttons are 
lacking from their boots. The stock-collar 
is often fastened on with an ordinary white 
pin that is very obvious, and the veil has 
occasionally a hole over the nose or chin. 
Our girl is charming ; but is she as careful 
as she should be? 

" The other day I was making a morning 
call at a friend's house, and there met an- 
other caller, a woman who made a most 
agreeable impression upon me. She was 
not elaborately dressed, but her black tailor- 
made gown fitted her well, and there was 
not a spot nor a speck of dust on it. I knew 
that it had been brushed carefully before she 
left her room. Her linen collar and cuffs 
were snowy white, and did not twist orshift 
from their proper places. Her gloves did 
not wrinkle, and buttoned smoothly over the 



230 The Art of Being Agreeable. 

wrists ; her shoes were like the rest of her 
attire — dainty ; and her bonnet rested firmly 
and straight on soft brown hair that, while 
wavy and fluffy, was neatly dressed, and so 
securely pinned that I fancy a high wind 
would not have caused it to come down. A 
thin veil covered a fresh complexion and 
bright face. The tout ensemble gave one the 
idea of daintiness and delicate finish. In 
speaking of this woman afterwards to a man 
who knows her, I said : 

" ' There is something about her appear- 
ance that charms one. What is the secret ? ' 

"'I will tell you/ he said. * She is a 
well-groomed woman. There are never 
any rough or loose ends about her/ 

"'You mean that she is tidy,' I said to 
him. 

"'You call it "tidy/' I say "well- 
groomed/' We both mean the same thing/ 

"However one may express it — in sport- 
ing terms or with the old-fashioned word — is 
the condition not well worth striving for ? 
Nothing is so destructive to illusion, so 
detrimental to the fascination of beauty or 
personal charm, as the lack of this quality/" 

It certainly adds very much to the plea- 
sure of an occasion and to the delight of 
everyday life to mingle with people whose 
outward appearance is attractive. There is, 
in fact, a certain toning up of good manners 
with the putting on of our best clothes. I 
once heard a lady say, when asked why she 



A Talk about Clothes. 231 

wore a certain bright bow in the schoolroom, 
her work being to teach a number of restless 
little boys : *' I find that my days go better 
when I am prettily dressed. The boys like 
to see the bright color and they behave 
much better than they would if I came care- 
lessly dressed." 

"Mamma," said a dear child, surveying 
sadly his mother's mourning robes, " I wish 
you wore pretty gowns as Harry s mother 
does." The mother was wise and unselfish 
enough to heed the child. She took off her 
sombre, clinging garments, dressed herself 
in white with bright ribbons, and never 
again wore the depressing dress which her 
child did not like. 

She felt that her duty to the living was as 
great as the respect she owed to the dead, 
and she knew that if the child's father could 
speak from the silence to which he had gone, 
he would rather see her do that which was 
for the child's good than offer up a sacrifice 
to his memory. 

' ' My little boy, " said a lady tome, "is so 
very fond of having on his best clothes, and 
I notice that when he goes out with me 
dressed in his nicest suit he holds up his 
head and behaves in a most attentive and 
deferential manner. It seems as if the 
putting on of his best things involves in him 
a decided improvement of behavior." 

We air know just what it means. With 
assumption of raiment for an occasion 



232 The Art of Being Agreeable. 

comes unconsciously the feeling of cere- 
mony and the desire to live up to our clothes. 
In a sense we all live up to our clothes. 
Every woman knows that when she puts 
on a beautiful, fresh, unsoiled pair of gloves 
she cannot afford to have the rest of her 
toilette conspicuously below the standard 
which the gloves have set. 

Still, we must not depend for making an 
agreeable impression exclusively upon our 
dress. I once had a neighbor — she has long 
since passed away, so that I -may speak of 
her without danger of wounding any one's 
feelings — who thought that dress was the 
beginning and end of everything. She 
had neither wit, good manners, nor much 
intelligence ; but she spent quantities of 
money on her personal adornment. Her 
diamonds represented a fortune, and she 
was so fond of them that she frequently 
loaded her fingers with rings outside of her 
gloves — of course the most ill-bred thing 
any one could possibly do. 

When I used to hear ungrammatical ex- 
pressions, double negatives, and slang fall- 
ing from her lips, and contrasted her style of 
talk with her latest fashions brought from 
Paris and Vienna, I used to think nothing 
could be so vulgar and coarse as an ignor- 
ant woman bedecked in finery and jewels, 
the very beauty of her dress calling attention 
to her innate defects. 

All one really needs is a simple, well-fitted 



A Talk about Clothes. 233 

gown, appropriate to the place and the hour 
where it is worn. When we put our clothes 
on we should be able to forget them, and 
the best-dressed woman is always the one 
whose dress does not call attention to itself. 
Mrs. John Hancock is said to have remarked 
that she could never admire a girl who 
thought about her clothes, or, on the other 
hand, whose clothes were neglected. 

After all, a sweet and gracious manner and 
a presence of dignity are of all things most 
important. Of a very popular woman it 
was once said : ' ' She never wore ornaments, 
but she was always well-dressed. A simple, 
well-fitted gown, and hair tastefully dis- 
posed, were all one could see of any effort 
to make her person pleasing, and these 
seemed to be forgotten, and, I believe, were 
forgotten, the moment she entered society. 
When friends were around her she had no 
thought but of them — no desire but to give 
and receive pleasure. If she was asked to 
sing, she sang, and, if it ministered to the 
pleasure of others, she sang patiently, even 
to weariness. She was as intelligent and 
stimulating in sober conversation as she was 
playful in spirit, and though she loved gen- 
eral society, and mingled freely in it, not a 
breath of slander ever sullied her name, and 
not an emotion was ever excited by her 
that did not do her honor. Every man ad- 
mired and honored her, and every woman — ■ 
a much greater marvel — spoke in her praise. 



234 The Art of Being Agreeable. 

Many a belle, dressed at the height of fash- 
ion, entered her presence only to become in- 
significant. Diamonds were forgotten and 
splendid dress was unmentioned, while her 
sweet presence, her self-forgetful devotion 
to the pleasure of others, and her gentle man- 
ners were recalled and dwelt upon with 
unalloyed delight." 

It is quite legitimate to say a great deal 
about dress in a book on the art of being 
agreeable. Cuffs and collars, for instance, 
should be immaculate ; everything about us 
should be trim and pleasing. Mr. Ruskin, 
writing for young girls, epitomizes the mat- 
ter so far as they are concerned : 

" Dress as plainly as your parents will 
allow you, but in bright colors, if they be- 
come you, and in the best materials ; that 
is to say, in those which will wear longest. 
When you are really in want of a new dress, 
buy it or make it in the fashion, but never 
quit an old one merely because it has become 
unfashionable. And if the fashion be costly, 
you need not follow it. You may wear 
broad stripes or narrow, bright colors or 
dark, short petticoats or long (in modera- 
tion) as the public wish you ; but you must 
not buy yards of useless stuff to make a 
knot or a flounce of; nor drag them behind 
you over the ground. And your walking 
dress must never touch the ground at all. 
I have lost much of the faith I once had in 
the common-sense and even in the personal 






A Talk about Clothes. 235 

delicacy of the present race of average Eng- 
lishwomen, by seeing how they will allow 
their dresses to sweep the streets, if it is the 
fashion to be scavengers. If you can afford 
it, get your dresses made by a good dress- 
maker, with utmost attainable precision 
and perfection. And be sure of this, that 
although in a truly Christian land every 
young girl would be dressed beautifully and 
delightfully, — in this entirely heathen and 
Baal-worshipping land of ours not one girl 
in ten has either decent or healthy clothing ; 
and that you have no business, till this be 
amended, to wear anything fine yourself, 
but are bound to use your full strength and 
resources to dress as many of your poor 
neighbors as you can. What of fine dress 
your people insist upon your wearing, take 
— and wear proudly and prettily for their 
sakes ; but so far as in you lies, be sure 
that every day you are laboring to clothe 
some poorer creatures. Devote a part of 
every day to thorough needlework, in mak- 
ing as pretty dresses as you can for poor peo- 
ple, who have not time nor taste to make 
them nicely for themselves. You are to 
show them in your own wearing what is 
modestly right and graceful ; and to help 
them to choose what will be prettiest and 
most becoming in their own station. If they 
see that you never try to dress above yours, 
they will not try to dress above theirs/' 



36 The Art of Being Agreeable. 



OUT OF THE PROCESSION. 

A man who has all his life been accus- 
tomed to activity, whose duties have been 
insistent and pressing, whose opinion has 
been sought and advice accepted by many, 
finds it a terribly wearing experience to be 
laid aside. Age comes, or creeping para- 
lysis, or ill health in some form, or an ac- 
cident saps the man's strength in his prime, 
and the procession goes on, but he is no 
longer in the ranks. Perhaps the day dawns 
when he is forced to say to himself, if in- 
deed he does not say it to his friends, '■' I 
am no longer essential to any one. No- 
body needs me. My kindred could do as 
well without me as with me. No work re- 
quires my hand. My services are impor- 
tant no longer. I have fallen out, and the 
rest of the day is a waiting for the end." 

A man may say and feel this with entire 
truth, and the busy world may indeed seem 
to need him no longer. If his temperament, 
notwithstanding his infirmities, still inclines 
him to action, if he have not a competence 
and is aware that his continued life means 
harder work for those he loves, so that he 
is forced to consider himself an encum- 



Out of the Procession. 237 

brance, a dead weight on their hands, then 
he is obliged to eat bitter bread, and resig- 
nation is hard to find. 

In such circumstances, his very unhappi- 
ness, his sense of being de frop, and his en- 
forced helplessness in a distasteful environ- 
ment may combine to render him morose, 
sullen, and disagreeable. The one thing left 
to him, the one possible attainment which 
yet may be his, seems the utterly impracti- 
cable and not-to-be-dreamed-of result, when 
he thinks of it : how shall he, no longer in 
the procession, wear a smiling face, speak 
cheerily, play with the grandchildren, sit 
overlooked in the corner, and preserve se- 
renity, put down querulous complaint, and 
set the slow pace of his waning days to the 
sunshine of an accepted providential dis- 
pensation ! 

It is hard, dear friend, and it's going to be 
hard all the while. But you may make it 
easier if you choose. " The cup which My 
Father hath given Me, shall I not drink it? " 
" Even so, Father, for so it seemeth good in 
Thy sight." What our Lord said in His 
supreme hour is the test of obedience and 
acquiescence for His disciples, in their lesser 
hours of extremity. 

Accept the situation. You are out of the 
procession. Well, then, become a philo- 
sophical onlooker. You have earned by 
long service a right to sit in the balcony and 
wave a flag as the marching legions pass. 



238 The Art of Being Agreeable. 

The old thrill will come to you now and 
then. You can even shout when the boys 
you have trained go by, laurelled and victori- 
ous. Having borne the burden and heat of 
the day, bear to wait awhile for the Mas- 
ter's " Well done." Be resigned, and be ac- 
quiescent, because this is God's appointment 
for you ; then people will no longer say, 

"What a fretful old gentleman General 

has become ! " but, " If ever there was a hero 

on earth, it is General . So brave, so 

cheery, so agreeable, though he is laid aside. 
Well, if ever a man earned the right to rest, 
he did." 












The Good Listener. 239 



THE GOOD LISTENER. 

This chapter is meant for everybody ; you 
cannot afford to skip it, for it is written for 
you. 

One of the most delightful people we ever 
meet is not famous for fluent conversation 
so much as for attentive listening. I was 
a very small child when my father one day 
said to me: "Always look at a person 
who is speaking to you and listen with all 
your might." This little rule of looking 
steadily at a friend and wearing an air of 
interest while talking with him is of great 
importance, commonplace as it seems. To 
carry on a conversation with an absent- 
minded acquaintance w r ho stares out of the 
window or perhaps turns over the pages of 
a book, while you are talking, apparently 
indifferent to the subject in hand, is one of 
life's minor trials. In one of Anthony Trol- 
lope's stories of English life there is depicted a 
most charming woman. She is the idol of 
everybody, popular and successful in so- 
ciety beyond all the women of her time. 
On investigation, the secret of her charm is 
found to be that she is always a most agree- 
able listener, flattering the men about her, 



240 The Art of Being Agreeable. 

and the women too, by her well-bred and 
pleased attention to all that they say. The 
good listener does not interrupt the conver- 
sation, even if his friend is a little diffuse 
and his meaning involved. He lets him go 
on, never showing by word or gesture that 
he is tired, never supplying a word, but pa- 
tiently waiting until the other has finished 
his sentence. The temptation to supply a 
word for which your friend is mentally 
searching is sometimes great, but, as a rule, 
to do this is injudicious and impolite. It is 
an implication that the friend cannot find 
the word for himself. One should be more 
than careful when the friend has an impedi- 
ment in his speech. The tongue of the 
stammerer does not wish assistance, al- 
though it sometimes appears as if this would 
be welcome, and for our comfort we may as- 
sume that he is less disturbed by his infirm- 
ity than we are. 

To listen agreeably one must feel an in- 
terest in what is being said. Sometimes 
this is very difficult. The subject may be 
foreign to you, and again there are people 
who talk in a sort of monotone, with few 
cadences and very little variety in their 
manner of speech. I know several women 
w T hose conversation has upon me a most 
lulling effect, and if I am tired or a little in- 
clined to sleep, it is with a great effort that 
I keep myself from nodding while the flow 
of their monotonous talk goes on like Term y- 



The Good Listener. 241 

son's brook. Still, one must say to one- 
self, " Noblesse obliged and no matter how 
little you may know of your friend's subject 
or how wearisome the talk may be, it is still 
the better part to act as if you were inter- 
ested, and in this way, before you are aware 
of it, an interest will probably be created. 

The truly unselfish person is interested in 
others, whether or not they are in themselves 
attractive, but such altruism is a matter 
not only of Christian charity but of social 
training-. 

One of the things which ought to be 
taught in the schools is the practice of lis- 
tening to what is going on. 

One needs only to watch the different 
faces in an audience to learn how few peo- 
ple comparatively have learned the art of 
listening as it should be acquired. Do not 
suppose that the minister or orator or plat- 
form speaker is not affected by the inatten- 
tion of the individuals in the audience. 
Sometimes when one is in the full tide of an 
eloquent address, he will find himself quite 
thrown off the track by seeing some one in 
front of him pull out and carefully consult 
his watch, as much as to say: "Will this 
wearisome person never get done ? " A 
look of bored indifference or aversion is a 
check to one who is endeavoring to appeal 
to a throng ; and if this is so, how much 
more must it be the case when the question is 
one of a talk in the parlor or of a tete-a-tete. 
16 



242 The Art of Being Agreeable. 

"What is the secret of Miss Blank's 
popularity ? ,; I once asked, mentioning a 
spinster well on towards fifty, of no partic- 
ular attractiveness, neither endowed abun- 
dantly w r ith good looks or cleverness, but 
absolutely one of the most welcome comers 
in all social gatherings that I have ever seen. 
The answer was, "She always listens as 
if you were the only person in the world, 
and as if she cared very much for what you 
were telling her." 

Here is a talent which any one of us may 
cultivate. Some of us will always be tongue- 
tied, and some of us can never hope to be 
brilliant or accomplished or to make a great 
figure in the world ; we have our limitations ; 
but we may listen with perfect amiability 
and attention to people who talk to us, and 
if we do this, we shall never lack a welcome. 
There is, you see, a very graceful deference 
displayed in the mere formality of paying 
attention. It is as if one should say: "It 
was worth while for me to have met you, 
and what you are telling me is of con- 
sequence and I shall be happier for having 
heard it. " To oil the machinery of home 
life and make it run smoothly and without 
friction, no one is more successful than the 
ordinary listener who listens well. 

Another point to be remembered, and one 
which the listener would do well to culti- 
vate, is to identify the people one casually 
meets. It is said that the Prince of Wales 



The Good Listener. 243 

has a wonderful gift of recollecting the names 
and faces of people whom he meets, so that 
if an obscure country clergyman comes up 
to London and is presented to the prince, 
meeting him of course only in a transient 
way, a year after the prince will recollect 
and address him by name. It always 
delights us to find that at least we have 
made a sufficient impression to have our 
personality recalled. Many of us find it 
exceedingly difficult and almost impossible 
to match names and faces. We can re- 
member a face but not a name, or a name 
but not a face, and we resort sometimes to 
all sorts of expedients to hide our infirmity 
from those we meet. Thus I once said to a 
young woman who rushed up most cordially 
to meet me on the street as if she were over- 
joyed at the encounter: "Where are you 
living now ? " The answer was most con- 
fusing. It was: "Just where I did when 
you called on me/' — which gave me no clue 
whatever to her identity. Frankness in this 
instance would have been wiser to begin 
with, and as confession seemed likely to 
wound her feelings, I had to let my friend 
go without being at all sure which one of a 
number of interesting young people of my 
slighter acquaintance she was. It would be 
well for us if faces and names do not readily 
impress themselves upon our subconscious- 
ness to make a mental effort to gain strength 
in this direction. One of the most dearly 



244 The Art of Being Agreeable. 

loved clergymen whom I know remembers 
the children in a very large Sunday school 
by their Christian names, and whenever they 
meet him, he wins their affection by a 
genuine interest in their home affairs. A 
talent of this sort is not given to us all, but it 
is well worth a great effort to obtain, and, 
like most gifts, we may have it if we choose 
to pay the price in eager and earnest atten- 
tion and in caring for those whom we 
meet. Indeed, let us cultivate sedulously a 
talent for loving our kind, so that people, 
wherever we touch their lives, shall give us 
of their best, so that we may never meet 
any one, however humble, however exalted, 
who will not receive from us, in some 
measure, a benediction. This it is to be 
genuinely unselfish, to have the love that 
seeketh not her own, and vaunteth not 
herself, but constantly imitates Him who 
came to minister to the world. 



Teachers and Scholars. 245 



TEACHERS AND SCHOLARS. 

So large a portion of our lives is spent in 
the schoolroom that it is quite worth our while 
to consider the question of good manners 
there. 



" I wish that the teacher had lessons to learn," 

Said Molly, the wise little elf, 
" She would never make them so hard and so long, 

If she had but to do them herself." 

And the teacher, at home in the twilight that eve. 
Sighed, " If the dear children but knew, 

How easy it is, and how glad are the days 
When we have only lessons to do." 



Much depends on the teacher's power to 
clothe a subject with interest, and to stimu- 
late in his pupils the desire to discover things 
for themselves ; there is no royal road to 
excellence, and we all alike, modern meth- 
ods notwithstanding, have to creep before 
we walk, and drudge before we acquire and 
accumulate. 

Parents owe it to their children to estab- 
lish pleasant social intercourse between 
the home and the school. Invite the teacher 
home to tea, or to dinner, make a little 



246 The Art of Being Agreeable. 

party for the teacher now and then, when 
Harry or Molly has done particularly well. 
Let the teacher know how pleased you are 
at your child's progress. 

While not entertaining too readily a child's 
complaints, still it is a parent's bounden duty 
to investigate when there are complaints, 
and find out whether there is occasion for 
them. A sensitive or diffident child should 
not be at the mercy of a severe or partial 
teacher, who has favorites and shows that 
she prefers one of her pupils to another. 
Balances must be kept even. 

New methods in teaching have supplanted 
the somewhat primitive ways once in vogue, 
but it is still true that if Nature have not 
endowed a child with capacity, money will 
not buy that necessary adjunct to educa- 
tion. Many mistakes are made in the 
schoolroom, and parents are often mistaken 
in their estimate of the intellectual powers 
of their offspring, yet, to the end of time, 
there will be children clever in some direc- 
tions and dull in others, languid and indo- 
lent children who need the spur of emulation, 
and bright, ambitious children, who must 
be held in check lest they learn too rapidly. 
An excellent feature of the educational prac- 
tice of our period is that even when, as in 
our public schools, children must be taught 
in masses, there is a strong effort on the 
part of teachers to study the individual 
child, while in private schools, small classes 



Teachers and Scholars. 247 

and much attention to the individual has 
become the rule. 

Out in the great world there is the roar 
and clash and shock of battle, and the tu- 
mult is incessant. On 'Change there is al- 
ways agitation. But wars and rumors of 
wars do not trouble the schoolroom, and the 
desks are filled with papers and pencils, 
sunny heads bend over books, and fingers 
draw maps and cast up accounts. The next 
generation is in the schoolroom. A few 
flying years and it will be in the thick of the 
strife, as we are now ; but to-day it is in train- 
ing, and its trials and triumphs are under 
the eye of the pedagogue. 

It is a period of fierce struggle and rivalry, 
a time of stubborn competition, and many 
must sooner or later be numbered among 
the unsuccessful, — many, too, who to-day 
seem well fitted for success. In the ranks 
of the liberally educated, of those who have 
been graduated from our colleges, there will 
be a certain percentage who will find that 
admirable vantage-ground where there is 
said to be always room ; they will aim for, 
and arrive at the top. Others will do very 
respectable work, but will never make a 
special mark, will not be heard of beyond 
their own towns, and will not be eminent 
even in a narrow and restricted sphere ; and 
still others will wear on from youth to mid- 
dle age, distinctly and sorrowfully unsuc- 
cessful. 



248 The Art of Being Agreeable. 

A peculiarity of some unsuccessful men 
is that they do not seem to lack persever- 
ance. They try and try, knocking at every 
door, pulling every string, and wearying 
their friends with the sight of their vain 
endeavors. One such used to pass me daily 
on the street, a man of refined appearance, 
scholarly aspect and gentle breeding. His 
life, as I learned later, was one of heroic 
endurance ; in the care of a relative bound 
for years to a couch of agonizing pain he 
showed the most tender and tireless devo- 
tion, performing menial services with his 
own hands, and never allowing a hint of 
the privations which he bore without com- 
plaint to cloud her uncertain sunshine. But 
she died and he soon followed, the neigh- 
bors said as a result of poverty and discour- 
agement and debt, a lawyer without a client, 
an able man, for whom there never seemed 
an opening or even a foothold in the line of 
advancement. 

Another such struggling man I knew in- 
timately, and can testify that neither weak- 
ness of will, nor vice of any sort, nor indo- 
lence, nor anything, except, perhaps, an 
excessive caution, kept him always at the 
rear. Others, who started with him, achieved 
success — some signally, some moderately. 
But he went from youth to gray hairs, ever 
poorer, ever less able to cope with life, ever 
more and more unsuccessful till the curtain 
dropped. 



Teachers and Scholars. 249 

To be successful one must needs be 
somewhat aggressive. Not unamiable, but 
amiability must be buttressed round and 
bolstered up by a great strength of will and 
a resolute determination not to yield an 
inch of ground once honestly gained. The 
aggressive man conquers his way inch by 
inch, and he loses no advantage once ac- 
quired. There must be, too, the ability to 
hold fast to a position, and to strike roots 
deep in one place. The person who likes 
frequent change, who is over-sensitive and 
easily rebuffed, who allows circumstances 
to interfere with him, instead of ruling over 
circumstances, is pre-doomed to be unsuc- 
cessful. 

There is also the question of sensible and 
judicious choice in the outset, and here 
parents come into the case. Men are pushed 
into business when nature meant them for 
professions, for art, for teaching, for the 
pulpit. Men have been unwisely urged to 
choose the pulpit when, beyond piety, they 
had no vocation for that particular field of 
service, when they would have been at 
home behind the counter or behind the plow 
rather than at the sacred desk. Too late the 
mistake was discovered and very likely 
deplored, but the man externally had be- 
come of his profession and could not adopt 
another, but had to go on in a course 
shadowed by blighted hopes to the very 
end. In selecting the life career it behooves 



250 The Art of Being Agreeable. 

every one of us to be conscientious, to be 
careful in taking account of predilection, of 
talent and of probable opportunity. A boy 
should be wisely advised ; sometimes urged 
to wait before deciding on what is to in- 
fluence all his earthly years ; sometimes, for 
his own good, overruled. 

The foundations for success or failure are 
being laid during the years of pupilage. 
Some children need very careful manual 
training ; others are deft-handed and grace- 
ful, understand tools readily, and have con- 
structive ability, — these are in want of intel- 
lectual discipline, must have mind and heart 
cultivated. Make the school life tell, and to 
do so, see that the child loves the school- 
room and that every day is a step in the 
process of natural and proper development. 

Do not suffer the children to be self- 
conscious. In our well-meant efforts to 
keep children from vanity, we frequently 
foster a quality as unfortunate. A mother 
says, quoting from her book of experience : 

" I know at least three ladies, each distin- 
guished for mental and moral strength, 
who will in their weaker moments feel them- 
selves awkward, ugly, uncouth, to the day 
of their death because of childish impres- 
sions. Mrs. R., one of the brightest women 
I have ever met, said to me : 'When I was 
a child I was always being told how big I 
was, how difficult it was to make me " look 
anyhow " in my clothes. My sister, who 



Teachers and Scholars. 251 

was slim and natty, was spoken of over and 
over in my hearing as a child who could be 
''made something- of." I was called raw- 
boned and gawky till I believed myself to 
be a blot upon creation/ 

" 'To this day/ says my brilliant friend 
H., 'I am self-conscious upon entering a 
room, feeling that every one must be criti- 
cising me. My grandmother, or rather step- 
grandmother, who brought me up from a 
baby, never let me forget that my shoulders 
were " square," my gait "ungainly," that I 
was a " black little thing not fit to be seen." 
The impressions burned into my baby con- 
sciousness can never be erased while I am 
clothed in this mortal body/ 

"The third example was so pretty as a 
child that her mother felt it a duty to kill the 
upcomings of vanity. The girl, whose love 
of approbation was great, was made by this 
treatment to think constantly of herself. 
Many times a day she ran to the glass to 
see if she were really such ' a dowdy little 
thing.' She examined her fair, round arms ; 
were they really fat and coarse — 'Palmer 
arms?' as her mother said. Grandmother 
Palmer was short and plump and red-faced. 
The granddaughter was a very rosebud in 
freshness and purity of tint. Yet the girl 
was tortured by self-consciousness, and so 
hungry was she for admiration, approval 
rather, so starved was she for mother-brood- 
ing and mother-cuddling that anybody who 



n 



52 The Art of Being Agreeable. 



praised her, or flattered her, or was pleasant 
to her, found easy access to her heart." 

Suppose this mother had said : " You are 
like a flower for freshness and attractiveness. 
God has made you so. Think how you can 
make others happy by this gift of beauty. 
Be like a wild rose in the hedge that is un- 
conscious of itself, but is the joy of every 
one who sees it." The "pretty girl," taught 
thus the value of beauty and its natural rela- 
tion to a true and noble life, thinks no 
longer of her looks, and falls into her place 
of world-brighten ers and joy-makers as 
naturally as a flower blooms in the garden 
or by the wayside. 

The girl who has no form, the awkward 
girl, should have her thoughts drawn away 
from physical defects, which are generally 
immaturities ; she may bejudiciously praised 
for success in her studies, for helpfulness at 
home, for any strong point that she may 
possess. She may be taught to feel that 
she is "mother's right hand," and have a 
healthful pride awakened in qualities that 
have nothing to do with her physique. Se- 
cure in the love and approbation and ad- 
miration of her home friends, the daughter 
feels only natural, proper care for what 
others may think of her. The awkward 
girl, knowing that she is prized at home, 
becomes unconsciously graceful through 
happiness and self-respect. 

The nest is for brooding, the home is for 



Teachers and Scholars. 253 

loving, teaching, training. Most unfortu- 
nate is the child whose heart is starved at 
home. Seeking food among strangers, she 
may receive poison instead. The girl in 
whose heart nestles the thought, " Mother 
thinks I am pretty/' has no further care 
about the matter. The girl whose father is 
also " admirer" will not surrender her heart 
for a few tender phrases. 

This view of the case, that we must be 
liberal with praise and very sparing of blame, 
is as needful to the teacher who honestly 
strives to advance her pupils, or his, as for 
the parent. A great many hours of a great 
many days are passed under the eye of the 
teacher. Why should they not be the hap- 
piest hours of juvenile life? 



254 The Art of Being Agreeable. 



REST WHEN YOU ARE TIRED. 

Middle-aged women ought not to have 
anxious faces. Lines there may be of care, 
of sorrow, of struggle, but we women grow- 
ing older have a right to serenity, and on 
our brows the angel of household joy and 
tenderness should evermore press the seal 
of peace. The inner light, shining from the 
soul to the eyes, should be divinely beau- 
tiful. 

But, dear ladies, to have this sweetness 
of expression, you must rest when you are 
tired. It has been observed wisely that : 

Form develops first from rest and the 
strength that comes of rest. A tired, w r eakly 
figure will sag and bend and want elasticity. 
Overworked figures settle down and lose 
two inches of height by the pressing together 
of the parts of the body. That is why 
women seem and are shorter after middle 
age. On rest depends the length and sup- 
pleness of limb, and women should know 
how to take advantage, to secure rest and 
conserve strength. Girls must be trained 
to take rest at proper seasons, whether they 
feel tired or not, and the woman must con- 
tinue this exact and special care of herself 



Rest when You are Tired. 255 

as the foundation of her well-being. A day 
or two laying off at the right time, having 
her breakfast in bed and spending the day 
in the luxury of a wrapper and a lounge, 
will make the difference between a blithe, 
active creature the next few w r eeks, or one 
who goes about with a constant ache and 
fatigue. 

Dr. Hosmer, the father of Harriet Hosmer, 
the sculptor, one of the acutest of New 
England physicians, used to drive around 
the circle of his practice in house-cleaning 
seasons telling women to lie down and rest 
when tired, as half an hour at full length on 
a lounge would refresh the whole body more 
than three hours sitting in a chair. The 
periodical rest should be insisted on by 
every mother as long as she lives to watch 
over her daughter. Without it shoulders 
grow bowed and the gait dragging. With 
rest the step is elastic, the form well upheld, 
the bust firm, the limbs retain elegance and 
shape. Work while you work, and rest 
while you rest, should be the rule for every 
girl and woman. 

After advising the duty of rest, it will 
sound strange to urge the value of hard 
work in keeping a good form, but the two 
supplement each other. Hard work is not 
overwork, but rapid, steady work that pulls 
muscle into play and sends the blood and 
sweat flowing finely. Perhaps you will 
bear better what that polished physician and 



256 The Art of Being Agreeable. 

man of the world, Dr. Weir Mitchell, says 
on the subject : "I think it fortunate when 
women are so situated as to have to do 
things about the household which exact 
vigorous use of the upper extremities. Noth- 
ing is a better ally against nervousness or 
irritabilility in any one than outdoor ex- 
ercise or pretty violent use of the muscles." 

Speaking of woman's work, that keen- 
sighted and sharp-tongued critic, the late 
lamented Gail Hamilton, said : 

" I do not say that a man's work may not 
be harder for an hour, or five or ten hours, 
more exhaustive of mental and vital power, 
more exclusive of all diversions than his 
wife's for the same time. It may or may 
not be ; quite as often the latter as the 
former ; but I do say that severe pre- 
arranged, intermittent labor wears less upon 
the temper, the nerves, and the spirits, — that 
is, upon body and soul, — than lighter, con- 
fused, unintermitting labor. Work that en- 
lists the energies and the enthusiasm will 
weary, but the weariness itself is welcome, 
and brings with it a satisfaction, — the pleas- 
ant sense of something accomplished. The 
multiplicity of a woman's labors distracts as 
well as wearies, and each one is so petty 
that she has scarcely anything to look back 
on. Not one of them is. great enough to 
brace and stimulate, an'd altogether they 
form a multitudinous heap, and not a mount- 
ain. It is a round of endless detail ; little, 



Rest iv hen You are Tired. 2$j 

insignificant, provoking items that she gets 
no credit for doing, but fatal discredit for 
leaving undone. Nobody notices that things 
are as they should be ; but if things are not as 
they should be, it were better for her that a 
millstone were hanged about her neck, etc. ! " 
Even the children, darlings as they are, 
do not invariably bring mothers an un- 
mixed delight. All their weariness and 
fretfulness and tumbles and aches are 
poured into her lap. She has no division of 
labor, no concentration of forces ; no five 
or ten hours devoted to housework, and two 
or three t6 her children, taking them into 
her heart to do good like a medicine. They 
patter through every hour, to stay her from 
doing with her might any of the many 
things which her hands find to do. Noth- 
ing keeps limits ; everything laps over. 
God has given her a love so inexhaustible 
that, notwithstanding the washings and 
watchings, the sewing and dressing which 
children necessitate, notwithstanding the 
care, check, the pull-back, the weariness, 
the heartsickness, which they occasion, the 
" little hindering things" are — my pen is 
not wont to be timid, but it shrinks from 
attempting to say what little ones are to a 
mother. But divine arrangement does not 
prevent human drawback ; and looking not 
at inward solace, but outward business, it re- 
mains true that the business of providing for 
the wants of a family is not of that smooth, 

*7 



258 The Art of Being Agreeable. 

uncreaking nature to the mother that it is to 
the father. Let a man take two or three little 
children — two or three ? Let him take one ! 
— of one, two, three, or four years of age, 
to his shop, or stall, or office, and take care 
of him all the time for a week, and he will 
see what I mean. 

To every mother, even the most fond and 
devoted, there comes a moment when the 
very best thing she can do for herself and 
her children is to let somebody else take 
care of them for awhile. I have often 
thought that, among our endless societies 
and associations, there might to advantage 
be included another composed of unmarried 
ladies, sweet, cheery, faded spinsters, and 
lovely young girls, whose function should 
be to relieve wearied-out mothers, now for 
a forenoon, again for a day, and yet again 
for a week or a fortnight. This Society for 
the Succor of Self-denying Mothers would 
need little organization. It should have 
a membership of sunny-hearted women, 
who would not mind staying at home 
from church sometimes, so that while they 
amused restless little boys and girls, or 
crooned to fretful babies, the mothers might 
have the almost forgotten delight of sitting 
comfortably in the family pew. The work 
to be done would need no flourish of 
trumpets, would not figure in the news- 
papers, but the recording pen of the angel 
on high would write it down. 



Rest when You are Tired. 259 

Miss Anna C. Brackett, who is an 
authority on the subject of gaining freedom 
and power by judicious repose, enjoins on 
women in her admirable book, "The 
Technique of Rest," to learn to keep still 
outwardly, even as to hands and the tips of 
your fingers, as to feet and head, and you 
will find rest and quiet coming to the mind 
as a result. If you are ill, lie quiet if it be 
possible, and it will generally be found so. 
Lie still, and don't allow yourself to toss 
about. Sit still when you sit, and stand 
still when you must stand. Try this con- 
stantly and persistently and you will not 
fail of help. Allow yourself to make no 
motion that has not a purpose and an aim ; 
if you find yourself moving unnecessarily, 
call yourself back to quietness. No one 
can tell how much of the beautiful serenity 
of the Quakers comes from the outward 
stillness and quiet of their worship. Watch 
other people to be convinced how much 
muscular and nervous force is actually 
thrown away for nothing. Do not allow 
yourself to move nervously fast, and the 
more nervous you are, the more deliberate 
all motions should be. Force yourself to 
move slowly even if you are in a hurry. In 
walking, the tread of the city policeman is 
an excellent model for one to imitate, 
though there is no danger that you will 
succeed in copying it exactly. When at 
your desk, and with not much time to spare, 



260 The Art of Being Agreeable, 

the pencil falls on the floor, and the ruler 
won't be picked up, your eyeglass string- 
catches on a button, you can't find the 
blotter, and the paper on which were the 
memoranda you were copying just gets up 
from the desk and plunges, without any 
obvious motive-power but its own will, into 
the waste-basket ; or when, another day, 
scissors slip to the floor, the knot which 
you are sure you had made at the end of 
your basting-thread is not there, do not 
lose precious time, and sacrifice poise and 
equilibrium to fretting and folly. 

"1£," adds this judicious mentor, "you 
mus7 have tonics, take those also from 
Hir/i, in sunshine, pure air, exercise, reg- 
ular hours, healthful food, and, above all 
perhaps, in sleep. Religiously avoid all 
others. It is vain hoping to restore nerve- 
power by recourse to medicine. All such 
attempts are but patches, which only take 
from the garment, making the rent worse. 
An English physician has recently said of 
the maladies which imply or consist in loss 
of nerve-power, such as suppressed gout, 
hysteria, neuralgia, insomnia, chorea, epi- 
lepsy, melancholia, and general loss of 
mental control, that ' all this class of ills 
are, as a rule, whether they be hereditary 
in their origin or not — and very often they 
are hereditary — extremely gradual and slow 
in their onset, arising, as they do, from 
deep-rooted, constitutional causes/ He 



Rest when You are Tired. 261 

maintains, therefore, that they can be suc- 
cessfully combated ' only by very cautious 
and gradual remedies — remedies which do 
not cause any reaction, but which slowly 
steal into the system, and restore its 
strength by gradually accumulating, with- 
out stimulating, the resources from which 
nerve-power is derived. Strong nerve- 
tonics are in such cases mischievous, and 
sedatives positively injurious. A healthy 
plan of life, with air, exercise, and nutri- 
tive food are of the first importance/ This 
point can hardly be enough insisted upon. 
What you have done by a long series of 
drafts upon your nerve strength, whether 
necessary or not, can be made up only by 
a long series of efforts at patience and of 
will-power to keep yourself still and in the 
way of recovery." 

After all, and almost to be regarded as 
the conclusion of the whole matter, there 
is no pillow for the weary head, no cor- 
dial for the faint, like the realized sense of 
the Divine, ever-present goodness. 

There is no rest for the weary heart, no 
balm for the sorrows of life, no ease for the 
back bowed with the daily burden like the 
realized thought of the everlasting love. 
Blessed thought which comes to us in the 
night-watches calming disturbance, and 
soothing the eyes which care holds from 
slumber. Sweet words of faith and de- 
pendence spoken by holy men of old sing 



262 The Art of Being Agreeable. 

themselves to the tune of our modern 
melodies, as our lips move softly and we 
say, " The Lord is nigh unto all them that 
call upon him, to all that call upon him in 
truth. Hear my prayer, O Lord, give ear 
to my supplications. I stretch forth my 
hands unto thee ; my soul thirsteth after 
thee, as a thirsty land. Lord, thou hast 
been our dwelling-place in all generations." 
Verse after verse from the Psalms rises in 
memory, as stars arise in the sky, and, 
though we may be grieving over our dead, 
or, yet sadder experience, grieving over our 
living dear ones, we still can say, "Be- 
cause thy loving-kindness is better than life, 
my lips shall praise thee. Thus will I bless 
thee while I live, I will lift up my hands in 
thy name. Because thou hast been my 
help, therefore in the shadow of thy wings 
will I rejoice." 

In the midst of the day's toil, as in the 
wakefulness of the night, it is blessed to 
call to mind the assurances given by our 
heavenly Father that He will always sup- 
port and sustain us. "As thy day, shall 
thy strength be." "Fear not, little flock. 
It is your Father's good pleasure to give 
you the kingdom." "Behold, the Lords 
hand is not shortened, that it cannot save, 
neither is his ear heavy, that it cannot 
hear." 

The disciple of Christ need never be cast 
down nor discouraged, let circumstances 



Rest when Yon are Tired. 263 

be adverse or opportune. For the one cable 
which holds against all strain of our in- 
firmities, our wants, or our yielding to temp- 
tation is the cable of the ceaseless love of 
God. We are kept by the power of God 
through faith unto salvation. We do not 
keep ourselves. We are kept. 

When we look about us in the world we 
cannot help seeing that earthly love and 
human friendship are subject to changing 
conditions. The staunchest plank of human 
affection may give way in a storm. The 
wife may grow cold and indifferent to the 
husband of her youth ; the husband may 
cease to show the tenderness and considera- 
tion which once made her life a dream of 
delight. The child going forth from the 
home and forming other relationships, ap- 
parently is weaned from the early loyalty 
and the fondness he once felt for the parents 
to whom he was all in all. The father and 
mother may be disappointed in the daugh- 
ter and the son, and no longer treat them 
with the proud fondness of a happier time. 
Brothers and sisters drift apart, and perhaps 
for weeks and months together they do not 
mention the names which once were spoken 
every day. Mrs. Hemans made a true state- 
ment of fact in her poem, "The Graves of a 
Household," about the scattering of many a 
family who "grew in beauty side by side, 
and filled one home with glee," but we do 
not always wait for the cold hand of death 



264 The Art of Being Agreeable. 

to come and separate beloved kindred. 
Life wields a surer and sharper knife of divi- 
sion than death. The love that lasts is not 
the earthly love. It is a love of finer tissues 
and stronger fibre, and it is eternal, being 
hid with Christ in God. 

Shall we not cling closer to that endless 
love? "O Love Divine, how sweet thou 
art ! ' 3 Shall we not comfort ourselves with 
the knowledge that we cannot be lost from 
the clasping embrace of the everlasting arm 
that fainteth not, neither is weary? Shall 
we not, by prayer, by study of God's Word, 
by meeting with God's children, by faithful 
service day by day, by use of the appointed 
means of grace, and by frequent comtempla- 
tion, dwell more than ever in the blessed- 
ness of a life of entire trust, in the confi- 
dence of the Father's enduring love? 

And now let me give you a bit of a song, 
to sweeten the day, when you are tired. 
The song is one with a history, for we are 
told that it was sung in the rocks and caves 
of France, three hundred years ago, during 
the fierce persecutions of the Huguenots, 
those persecutions which inspired Milton's 
fine sonnet. 

"Avenge, O Lord, thy slaughtered saints" 
This is the hymn. 1 love it, and so will you. 

I have a friend so precious, 

So very dear to me, 
He loves me with such tender love, 

He loves so faithfully, 



Rest when You are Tired. 265 

I could not live apart from him, 

I love to feel him nigh, 
And so we dwell together, 

My Lord and I. 

Sometimes I'm faint and weary, 

He knows that I am weak, 
And as he bids me lean on him, 

His help I gladly seek ; 
He leads me in the paths of light 

Beneath a sunny sky, 
And so we walk together, 

My Lord and I. 

He knows how much I love him, 

He knows I love him well, 
But with what love he loveth me 

My tongue can never tell ; 
It is an everlasting love 

In ever rich supply, 
And so we love each other, 

My Lord and I. 

I tell him all my sorrows, 

I tell him all my joys, 
I tell him all that pleases me, 

I tell him what annoys ; 
He tells me what I ought to do, 

He tells me what to try, 
And so we talk together, 

My Lord and I. 

He knows how I am longing 

Some weary soul to win, 
And so he bids me go and speak 

The loving word for him ; 
He bids me tell his wondrous love, 

And why he came to die, 
And so we work together, 

My Lord and I. 



266 The Art of Being Agreeable. 

I have his yoke upon me, 

And easy 'tis to bear; 
In the burden which he carries 

I gladly take a share ; 
For then it is my happiness 

To have him always nigh — 
We bear and yoke together, 

My Lord and I. 

A thoughtful woman has said a true word 
for the old as follows : 

11 Those of us who have come near to the 
western mountain, behind which the sun is 
slowly but surely setting, know how natural 
it is to sit down in the late afternoon and 
take a backward turn of travel. Miles have 
been passed over since the fresh young 
morning. There were shadowy places and 
dark vales of sorrow to pass through, chilly 
winds to face, and storms that beat hard 
enough to leave the weatherworn marks on 
the heart and face. But why travel over 
the hard paths so often, instead of the pleas- 
ant ways through which we journeyed? 
•surely there were many sunshiny days, 
flowers growing by the green wayside, and 
beautiful calms after the terrible storms. 
God's hospices of rest seemed to come just 
at the very place where we thought we were 
so weary that we could not take another 
step. 

Every day that we live we may make life 
harder for others by telling over and over 
our sorrows and disappointments, or we 
may make life easier by entering into the 



Rest when You are Tired. 267 

interest of those who are coming behind us, 
and giving cheery words instead of whiney, 
discouraging sounds whenever we come to 
a new turn in the road. 

By living in a quiet, patient, cheerful 
way, we shall teach the sweet lesson of 
trust in the Lord and faith in Him, showing 
by our lives that we believe that the paths 
through which He has led us were the ones 
He, in His wisdom, chose for us. When 
we feel oppressed with the sorrows that 
have encompassed our way, and miss the 
dear ones who were our companions, but 
who have passed on beyond the gates, there 
is one person to whom we can go and talk 
it all over. Christ's humanity makes Him 
very dear to us. He knows our sorrows 
and He will help us bear them. When we 
come from those quiet talks alone with Him, 
we have brighter faces and sweeter words 
for the dear ones with whom we live. 

Equally sensible and very suggestive is 
the little incident which is next related. 

A bright woman, when applauded recent- 
ly for her goodness, begged her friend to let 
the matter drop. "For," she said, whim- 
sically, "though I do try to be good from 
some really high motives, yet I have one 
reason for trying which I am afraid is a low 
one." "What do you mean ?" inquired her 
laughing friend. "I mean that I once 
heard, many years ago, that beauty after 
fifty depended not on features, but on char- 



268 The Art of Being Agreeable. 

acter. Like all women, I desired to be 
beautiful, and as Providence has denied me 
the ' features ' necessary to secure that re- 
sult in early life, I determined to make the 
attempt to be beautiful at fifty. I am 
eighty-five now," she concluded, merrily, 
" and I must confess that I see no signs of 
this Indian-summer loveliness, but I still 
try to be good." 

These friends treated the matter as a jest, 
but there is really sense and truth in the 
saying that beauty in later life, in either 
man or woman, is dependent upon char- 
acter far more than upon form and color. 
It is a common experience for a young 
woman to say: "How fine looking Mrs. 

is. She must have been a beautiful 

girl!" And to hear the reply : "No, she 
was not nearly as good-looking in her youth 
as she is now. Her beauty has developed 
with her years." And it may have been 
observed that this is the often est true of 
women of high character. Nobility will 
tell upon the outward aspect. The carriage 
of the figure, the pose of the head, the ex- 
pression of the face — these come to reveal 
more and more, with the lapse of time, the 
inner life. There is something more than a 
mere pretty sentiment intended in that part 
of "The Little Minister," where we read of 
the beautiful face that God gives to all who 
love Him and follow His commandments. 
Unselfishness, sincerity, thoughtfulness, 






Rest when You are Tired. 269 

refinement — all of these graces of character 
which are worth so much more than mere 
outward shape and color — lend their charm 
to those who have consistently cherished 
them, until at fifty they may really become 
beautiful. 



Scant beauty nature gave her ; in disguise, 
Rugged and harsh she bade her go about 

With face unlovely, save the dark, sad eyes, 
From which her fearless soul looked bravely out. 

But Life took up the chisel, used her face 

Roughly, with many blows, as sculptors use a block ; 

It wrought a little while, and, lo, a grace 
Fell, as a sunbeam falls upon a rock. 

Across her soul a heavy sorrow swept, 

As tidal waves sweep sometimes o'er the land, 

Leaving her face, when back it ebbed and crept, 
Tranquil and purified, like tide-washed sand. 

And of her face her gentleness grew part, 

And all her holy thoughts left there their trace, 

A great love found its way within her heart, 
Its root was there, its blossom in her face. 

So when death came to set the sweet soul free 
From the poor body that was never fair, 

We watched her face and marvelled much to see 
How Life had carved for Death, an angel there. 

Not a bad idea is this one, of keeping 
what we may call a "pleasure book," and 
setting down in it daily all the interesting 
happenings, the unexpected bits of sun- 
shine, and the little breaks which make up 



270 The Art of Being Agreeable, 

the delight of living 1 . I heard not long ago 
of a woman, who said, " I have a book for 
every year since I left school, and a place 
for every day. It is but a little thing — the 
new gown, the chat with a friend, the 
thoughtfulness of the husband, a flower, a 
book, a walk in the field, a letter, a concert 
or a drive ; but it all goes into my Pleasure 
Book; and when I am inclined to fret I 
have only to read a few pages to see what 
a happy, blessed woman I am. You may 
see my treasures if you will." 

Slowly the fretful acquaintance turned 
over the pages of the book her friend 
brought her, reading a little here and there. 
One day's entries ran thus : " Had a pleasant 
letter from Mother. Saw a beautiful lily in 
a window. Found a pin I thought I had 
lost. Saw such a bright, happy girl on the 
street. Husband brought some roses in the 
evening." 

Bits of verse and lines from her daily read- 
ing have gone into the Pleasure Book of 
this world-wise woman, until its pages are a 
storehouse of truth and beauty. 

" Have you found a pleasure for everv 
day ? " 

"For every day," the low voice an- 
swered ; ' ' I had to make my theory come 
true, you know." 



The Money Bag. 271 



THE MONEY BAG. 

If home life is to be perfectly smooth and 
free from friction, the management of the 
joint income must be put upon a basis of 
entire confidence and perfect justice. The 
honored wife, "who has free access to the 
money, will not be half so likely to lavish 
it as the woman who is put off with scanty 
and infrequent sums. She who knows how 
much there is to spend will almost invari- 
ably keep within the limits. If she does 
not know, her imagination will be very 
likely to magnify the fountain, and if but 
meagre supplies are forthcoming, she will 
attribute it to niggardliness, and will con- 
sider everything that can be got from her 
husband as legal plunder ; and with under- 
ground pipes and above-ground trenches it 
shall go hard but she will drain him tolerably 
dry. Then he will inveigh against her ex- 
travagance, and so not only lose his money, 
but his temper, his calmness, and his com- 
placency, all the while blaming her when 
the fault is chiefly his own. If he had but 
frankly acquainted her with the main facts ; 
if he had but permitted her to look in and 
see what was the capacity of the reservoir, 



272 The Art of Being Agreeable. 

instead of leaving her to sit under the walls, 
knowing nothing of its resources but what 
she could learn from the occasional spouting 
of a single small pipe, he would have 
avoided all the trouble. It is so rarely that 
a wife will recklessly transcend her reason- 
able income, that I do not think it worth 
while to suggest any provision against the 
evil. It is an abnormal and sporadic case, 
to be treated physiologically rather than 
philosophically. The man has unfortunately 
allied himself to a mad woman, or he has 
found to his regret that there is nothing 
more fulsome than a she-fool." 

Many husbands, otherwise admirable 
men and excellent citizens, have an erro- 
neous impression that the money they bestow 
upon their wives is a gratuity on their part. 
They earn ; their wives spend in their view, 
and they altogether fail to see that the wife's 
part in the administration is as important 
as their own in the production. 

In point of fact, the wife is just as much 
a producer as the husband. Her part in the 
concern is just as important as his. She 
earns it as truly, and has just as strong a 
claim and just as much a right to it as he ; 
if possible she has more, for she ought to 
receive some compensation for the gap that 
yawns between work and wages. It is 
much more satisfactory to receive the latter 
as a direct result of the former, than as a 
kind of alms. Many a woman does as much 









The Money Bag. 273 

to build up her husband's prosperity as he 
does himself. Many a woman saves him 
from failure and disgrace. And, as a general 
rule, the fate and fortunes of the family lie 
in her hands as much as in his. What ab- 
surdity to pay him his ivages and to give her 
money to go shopping with! 

A woman who went around to make a 
collection for a small local charity, told me 
that she could not help noticing the differ- 
ence between the married and the unmar- 
ried women. The latter took out their 
purses on the spot and gave their mite or 
mint without hesitation. The former 
parleyed and would see about it, gave 
rather uncertainly, and must speak to 
Edward before they could decide. Now it 
may well be that a woman who has only 
her own self to provide for can give more 
liberally than one upon whose purse come 
the innumerable requisitions of a family. 
The mother may be forced to make many 
sacrifices, and yet be so blessed in the mak- 
ing that there shall be no sacrifice. 

A married woman should know with ac- 
curacy the extent and resources of the family 
exchequer. If the money is a salary, reg- 
ularly paid on an appointed day, there will 
be little difficulty in its appropriate division 
and apportionment. If, on the contrary, it is 
a fluctuating income, still let the wife and 
the daughters know what they may properly 
spend, and do away with heart-burnings, 
18 



274 The Art of Being Agreeable. 

discord, and painful scenes, which have 
their origin in fusses and quarrels over do- 
mestic finance. There is really no reason 
"why a married woman should hesitate, or 
be embarrassed, or consult Edward as to 
the expenditure of a dime or a dollar, any 
more than an unmarried one. There may 
be more calls on the purse, but she ought 
to be mistress of it. She ought to know her 
husband's circumstances well enough to 
know what she can afford to give away, and 
she ought to be as free to use her judgment 
as he is to use his. In any unusual emer- 
gency, each will wish to consult the other ; 
but he does not think of asking her as to 
the disposal of every chance quarter of a 
dollar, neither should she think of asking 
him. If circumstances make it neces- 
sary to sail close to the wind, sail close 
to the wind ; but let both be in the same 
boat. 

If one might judge from the newspapers, 
extravagance is a peculiarity of women. So 
far as my observation goes, the extravagance 
of women is not for a moment to be com- 
pared with the extravagance of men. A 
man is perversely, persistently, and with 
malice aforethought, extravagant. He is 
extravagant in spite of admonition and 
remonstrance. Where his personal comfort 
or interest is concerned, he scorns a sacri- 
fice. He laughs at the suggestion that such 
a little thing makes any difference one way 



The Money Bag. 275 

or another. He has not even the idea of 
economy. He does not know what the 
word means. He does not know the thing 
when he sees it. Women take to it naturally. 
A certain innate sense of harmony keeps 
them from being wasteful. Their extrav- 
agance is the exception, not the rule. They 
are willing to incur self-denial. They do 
not scorn to take thought and trouble, and 
be put to inconvenience, for the sake of 
saving money. The greater animalism of 
man also comes out here in full force. If 
sacrifice must be, a woman will sacrifice her 
comforts before her taste. The man will 
let his tastes go, and keep his comforts, and 
call it good sense. A woman's extravagance 
is to some purpose. A man's to none. She 
buys many dresses, but she gives her old 
ones away, or cuts them over for the chil- 
dren, and works dextrously/'" 

The very fact that a woman's whole life 
obliges her to concern herself with small 
and often very trifling matters of detail, as- 
sists her to be economical, frugal, to watch 
narrowly for ways and means of saving. 
Trust her with the money-bag and she will 
not shame your foresight. 

A certain amount of training in business 
methods, and a systematic keeping of ac- 
counts would go far to making home life 
pleasant. We cannot be happy where we 
are alw r ays on the rack. If we have been 
spending more than we ought, let us cut 



276 The Art of Being Agreeable. 

down our expenses, but let husband and 
wife come to a mutual understanding on the 
subject and arrange matters according to 
their united discretion. 



Correspondent ce. 2JJ 



CORRESPONDENCE. 

Everybody writes letters in these days, 
not such long, leisurely letters as our fore- 
fathers did, when postage was a matter of 
moment, but letters off-hand, to friends, to 
relatives, to strangers, to people on busi- 
ness, letters of ceremony, letters of invita- 
tion, letters of condolence, in short, letters 
on every occasion and touching every mat- 
ter under the sun. We would hardly know 
how to carry on our modern life without 
correspondence. 

Regarding the externals of this everyday 
function, the mere dress and machinery of 
letters, you need if you would be conform- 
able to good rules, a supply of white smooth 
note paper, with envelopes to match it, a 
trustworthy pen, and black ink. The ink 
must not be pallid and diffident, as if afraid 
to show its face, and the pen must be a 
straightforward implement, warranted nei- 
ther to blot nor to spatter at the foot of 
a page, thus injuring both the letter and 
the writer's temper. It is an easy matter 
to provide one's self and the house with 
the right sort of stationery, yet we have all 
been in homes where there was only one 



278 The Art of Being Agreeable. 

pen, and that kept on a shelf behind the 
sitting-room clock, and where a sheet of 
paper was a luxury very hard to obtain at 
short notice. 

Each person old enough to read and write 
ought to have an individual supply of note 
paper and individual pens and ink. For the 
little children, fanciful papers with designs 
of brownies and kelpies, or rosebuds and 
ferns, may do very nicely, but let all grown- 
up people eschew every style except that 
which is severely plain. 

An engraved heading is permitted or a 
monogram, for, when a lady or a gentle- 
man has a very large correspondence, time 
is saved by having the town, or the street 
and number all plainly stated at the top of 
one's sheet, but beyond this, have no deco- 
ration, and avoid rough edges, tinted papers, 
and everything in the least savoring of 
eccentricity. 

In letters of business, be brief, pointed and 
explicit. Let the date be clearly written at 
the top of the page under the address, which 
should always be given in full. In letters 
of friendship which are informal, it is now 
customary to write the date at the end in- 
stead of the beginning of the letter. 

Sign your name in full, and very legibly. 
It is very vexatious to read a letter through 
and then find the writer's signature vague 
and indistinct. 

Some years ago, a lady of New York, 



Correspondence. 279 

spending sometime abroad, chanced upon a 
work written in German, by a member of the 
nobility. She was so pleased with this vol- 
ume that she translated it for her own satis- 
faction and that of a few friends, and I 
quote from it some eminently suggestive 
observations about the style of women's 
letters. The high-born German lady thinks 
that the interval between the receipt of a 
letter and its reply should, at its longest, be 
never more than four weeks. I myself think 
that two weeks is a better interval in a reg- 
ular and friendly correspondence, though 
members of a household temporarily sep- 
arated may prefer to write to one another 
every day. Friends residing at a distance, 
and meeting only semi-occasionally, may 
avoid the danger of drifting apart by a pe- 
riodical exchange of letters which may keep 
each in touch and in intimate knowledge of 
the other and her affairs. 

If one receives regularly every month 
news from a friend — I mean, of course, such 
news as I have in mind — then no alienation 
can arise between friends who are sepa- 
rated ; they can meet after ten years of sep- 
aration and be bound together in the same 
way as when they parted. They can in 
truth go on together in spirit, and their ex- 
change of letters may prove the greatest 
blessing to them. 

Naturally, the blessing will be increased 
if circumstances allow the space of time to 



280 The Art of Being Agreeable. 

be reduced. More frequent or even daily 
writing has the same disadvantage as un- 
frequent writing. Namely, at a great dis- 
tance we cannot wait for the answer to our 
last letter. This constant crossing of letters 
makes the correspondence very unpleasant. 
One asks questions which have been acci- 
dentally answered by the other before re- 
ceiving our letter. One explains something 
with great trouble and expense of time with- 
out knowing that the receiver has already 
heard it all from another source. One is 
grieved, angry and anxious about a thing 
which has already been arranged and settled. 
In a word, misunderstandings of all kinds 
arise, and much time for writing is unneces- 
sarily lost, if we do not await the answer to 
our last letter before writing another. Such 
hasty exchange of letters can be compared 
to the struggle between two angry adver- 
saries, who both speak at the same time 
without listening to hear what the other is 
saying. 

Let every one have his say out in writing 
as well as in speaking, and afterward you 
may answer them. 

We will set aside the daily letters of a 
tenderly attached couple who are engaged, 
or the case of the family of a sick person 
whose loved ones at a distance cannot rest 
without receiving daily news. 

Bnt we, who live in the ordinary manner, 
can wait until the time comes which we. 



Correspondence. 28 1 

have set aside for correspondence with our 
distant loved ones. We take their last letter 
out of the portfolio, read it through once, 
and then we begin our letter by comprehen- 
sively answering every question ; we take 
especial pains to do this in cases where in- 
quiries have been made about the health of 
our dear ones, about events in the family or 
village life, and we tell in our own turn, 
what items of interest we may, taking care 
to think of those particulars which our friends 
will most enjoy. 

How shall one tell these things? 

"Just as one would speak." That is the 
only good, authentic rule for familiar letters. 

Discard everything as nonsense which 
you have learned and read about the ar- 
rangement and division of sentences, about 
style, etc., banish all printed letters of cele- 
brated persons from your memory, do not 
attempt anything, do not strive after any 
model, be yourself in your letters, and you 
will succeed well ; they will not be compo- 
sitions, they will not be models of style, but 
they will be veritable letters. 

Think of the persons to whom you write 
and imagine they are beside you, and tell 
them simply with your pen what you would 
tell them with your lips. 

The habit of constantly placing before us 
the person to whom w T e write, is one of the 
principal requisites of pleasing, interesting, 
and speaking letters. After the first few 



282 The Art of Being Agreeable. 

lines we must forget entirely that we are 
writing, and we must only be occupied in 
mute speech and visible thought. While 
the words are flying over the paper, we must 
see a joyful smile beam on the face of the 
dear one far away, we must see them start 
with incredulous astonishment or listen with 
increasing interest. We must see the tears 
come into their faithful eyes, and hasten to 
breathe a word of comfort before the pain 
which we have occasioned reaches a crisis. 
During the hours which we devote to such 
a letter, we must detach ourselves from other 
thoughts, and give ourselves wholly and 
singly to the matter in hand. Some very 
simple-hearted and imperfectly educated 
people are models of good letter-writing, 
because they do let themselves out thor- 
oughly and completely in the correspond- 
ence they carry on with those they love. 
One may describe anything in a letter, ac- 
cording to the person to whom it is sent. 

To one you would describe a pretty fete 
champetre, to another a grand entertain- 
ment ; to this one I would comment on my 
children, while to another I would speak of 
what I had been reading, or of some kind 
of woman's or household work, or touch 
hastily upon whatever subject I would speak 
of if I were talking with my absent friend. 

Those who go through the world with 
their eyes open may be sure that their life 
will not flow on in such an uniform, un- 



Correspondence. 283 

eventful way that they will have no material 
for writing, or even lack of time, and these 
two things should never be offered as excuses 
for long silence. 

Who is not familiar with the following 
form : "I would willingly write more, but 
I cannot think of anything interesting to 
tell you ; " " What can I tell you, for nothing 
has happened of the least importance ; " 
" My letter is very short to-day, but I have 
searched in vain for a subject to lengthen it. 
I find in reading it over that it is very 
stupid," etc. 

I would urge every one who uses such 
phrases in writing to abandon them instant- 
ly, for it would be so much better to leave 
the last page of the letter empty. 

When one has nothing to say it were bet- 
ter to remain silent ; this is a golden rule 
which applies as well to the pen as to the 
lips. 

If one does not wish to let the regular 
post-day pass without sending some news, 
we have now the excellent introduction of 
postal cards. Since the invention of postal 
cards it is quite unnecessary to send letters 
which contain absolutely nothing. 

One can write, "All are well with us. 
There is nothing new. Heartfelt greetings/' 
In this way friends receive expected news 
and are much more gratified than by a couple 
of pages of empty words. 

The much-loved "no subject to write 



284 The Art of Being Agreeable. 

about " or " no time," are, without doubt, in 
ninety-nine cases, only empty excuses. I 
assert that in order to write good letters 
only one thing is necessary, the will to do it. 

As regards a familiar correspondence, the 
so-called journal letters are an excellent 
arrangement. It is a very good plan and 
much to be recommended to write a little 
every day, and at the end of the week or 
month to send the letter. Sometimes it is 
hard to find time to write along, continuous 
letter at once, or one cannot give one's self 
up to writing on the post-day, but by writing 
a little each day the letter is ready before 
the time. When one writes something each 
day it is not so easy to forget an event or a 
remark which, perhaps, would be overlooked 
later by the pressure of more important 
events. 

Alas ! it must be owned that in too many 
instances persons who write letters have not 
studied in them the art of being agreeable. 
Have you never seen anything like this? 

First page, Excuses for the long silence ; 
second page, Thanks for the last letter, with- 
out any remarks on its contents ; third 
page, Excuse that one is obliged to close 
one's letter, although there is so much to 
relate ; fourth page, Compliments and 
greetings, wishes for one's health, hopes for 
an immediate answer ; postscript, Remarks 
about the bad writing, which are excused on 
account of the haste of the writer. 



Corresponde7ice. 28$ 

Such is the stereotyped style of thousands 
and more than thousands of women's let- 
ters, which are daily flying around the world. 
One regrets that so much paper, so much 
time, and so much postage should be 
wasted. 

Speaking of postage, never forget to en- 
close return stamps if you are writing on 
your own business to some one who must 
answer your letter, at the cost of his own 
time, thought and pains. One or two stamps 
cost very little, but when one has a large 
correspondence, the tax of postage is great, 
and courtesy absolutely requires this pre- 
caution at your hands. 

Whatever else we do, let us not send hurt 
or grieved or angry letters, out of an impulse 
of wounded feeling, to any correspondent. 
For a written word is in a sense imperish- 
able, and long after our first emotion of 
resentment has passed, our inscribed and 
perpetuated wrath may survive, to sting and 
burn and blight a sorrowing and penitent 
heart. 

Letters of condolence should be sent very 
soon after hearing of a bereavement and 
should be tender and full, but not necessarily 
diffuse. The house of mourning is not a 
place for much speech. We may just say 
that we are sorry, that we commend our 
afflicted friend to the only Comforter, and 
that will be sufficient. 

Letters of acknowledgment of favors re- 



286 The Art of Being Agreeable. 

ceived, of gifts and tokens of love, should 
be very spontaneous. Never be frugal of 
thanks. Above everything never procras- 
tinate your thanks. Write at once and as- 
sure the giver that the gift was what you 
wanted, that it has brought you a joy, that 
you treasure it as an expression of esteem. 

The bride answers with a note of thanks 
the wedding gifts which come to her ; if 
possible doing this before the wedding and 
while she still bears her maiden name. 

The child, in a home of courtesy and 
sweet graces, early learns to say, "I thank 
you," and we should keep the beautiful 
habit up all through our lives to the end. 
Thanks oil the rusty locks and keep them 
from grating. Thanks distinguish the 
bountiful man from the churl. 

It is a sign of a meagre and half-developed 
nature to be too economical and sparing of 
thanks. 

To say of a man or woman, " He or she 
writes a charming letter," is to describe one 
who may safely be trusted to adorn any 
society, however exalted. 



Some Charming Examples, 287 



SOME CHARMING EXAMPLES. 

Scattered through the pages of biography 
the diligent reader finds many bright exam- 
ples of men and women who have illustrated 
in their careers the fine art of living agree- 
ably. Of the idolized wife of the Rev. 
Charles Kingsley we are told that through 
her pure convincing faith she helped to 
mould the destiny of a great man. This is 
a life-work of which any woman may well 
be proud ; it is a married career of this un- 
selfish kind which brings out those brilliant 
characteristics of a woman which otherwise 
might never be developed. As we think of 
Kingsley as a young man, unsettled by the 
difficulties attending religious belief, and 
then compare the winding up of his work 
on earth, as he preached in Westminster 
Abbey, on November 29th, 1874, we see the 
grand and complete consummation of those 
desires which his wife had cherished from 
the hour when she was thrown in contact 
with him. 

Frederick Denison Maurice, a man whose 
influence was potential with epoch-making 
men, and whose name is yet held in great 
reverence in England was, before his mar- 



288 The Art of Being Agreeable. 

riage, given to isolation, self-restraint, 
reserve and a very marked silence. 

It was indeed an important change which 
his marriage with Anna Barton produced, 
for she, it would seem, yearned for some 
loving sympathetic spirit upon which to 
lean — not having been content or happy in 
her life at home. Happily they met — 
exactly suited as they were for each other ; 
and in her society Denison found a wife 
who was good and true ; her intense open- 
ness and veracity being a marked feature of 
her character. 

"She was the most transparently truth- 
ful person I ever knew," was commonly 
said of her ; "the most fresh and informal." 
She was possessed, too, "of a particular 
kind of humor, of which she was full, and 
it not unfrequently expressed itself some- 
what epigrammatically, but the humor was 
almost always the serving up of facts, so to 
say, in their own broth. " 

Sir Samuel Romilly, writing of Lady 
Romilly, his beloved wife, thus describes 
her, and incidentally throws a side-light on 
himself as a most agreeable husband. 
Alluding to his first meeting with her, as a 
bright young girl, he says : 

"I saw in her the most beautiful and 
accomplished creature that ever blessed the 
sight and understanding of man. A most 
intelligent mind, an uncommonly correct 
judgment, a lively imagination, a cheerful 



Some Charming Examples. 289 

disposition, a noble and generous way of 
thinking", an elevation and heroism of char- 
acter, and a warmth and tenderness of affec- 
tion such as is rarely found even in her sex, 
were among her extraordinary endowments. 
I was captivated alike by the beauties of 
her person and the charms of her mind. A 
mutual attachment was formed between us, 
w T hich at the end of little more than a year 
was consecrated by marriage. 

"All the happiness I have known in her 
loved society, all the many and exquisite 
enjoyments which my dear children have 
afforded me, even my extraordinary success 
in my profession, the labors of which, if my 
life had not been so cheered and exhilarated 
I never could have undergone — all are to be 
traced to this unexpected and seemingly 
accidental meeting." 

When this admirable woman and adored 
wife died, her husband could not live with- 
out her and survived her only three days. 

The wife of Sir William Hamilton, who 
was a famous scholar and writer, helped her 
husband by acting as his amanuensis, and 
for some years w r rote at his dictation when- 
ever he needed her assistance. Cheerful 
and buoyant, she rallied him when he was 
gloomy, and depression fled before her lov- 
ing ministrations. More and more as years 
went on and his strength declined, and illness 
attacked him, did he lean upon her and seek 
to have her constantly beside him, and with 
J 9 



290 The Art of Being Agreeable, 

ever-increasing care and assiduity did she to 
the last moment fulfil her life's labor of love 
— to smooth and cheer and remove all out- 
ward hindrances from the path of her hus- 
band ; feeling when she could no longer do 
this that her occupation was gone. She had 
the only reward for which she cared in the 
one life which she and her husband in their 
several spheres lived, in the perfect confi- 
dence which he reposed in her, in the 
depths of his affection and appreciation. 

Naturally, too, of an indolent disposition, 
much of Sir William Hamilton's work would 
have been left undone had it not been for 
the influence of his wife. She had the 
happy power of keeping him up to what he 
had to do, sustaining and helping him for- 
ward by her cheerful, energetic force of char- 
acter. It was by her power of guidance 
and counsel, and by that "womanly tact 
which can thread its way through difficulties 
where mere intelligence is baffled," that he 
was enabled to accomplish what he actually 
did in literature and philosophy. 

Thomas Hood, writing to his wife, ex- 
claimed, "I never was anything, dearest, 
till I knew you, and I have been a better, 
happier, and more prosperous man ever 
since. Lay by that truth in lavender, dear- 
est, and remind me of it when I fail/' 

Quite recently J. M. Barrie, in his sur- 
passingly tender and beautiful tribute to his 
mother, "Margaret Ogilvy," draws a por- 



Some Charming Examples. 291 

trait of a woman who, her life long, from 
youth to old age, was winningly agreeable. 
A similar picture is sketched by a firm hand 
in Ian Maclaren's "Beside the Bonny 
Brier-bush," in his character of Marget 
Howe. 

Our own dear Mrs. Prentiss whose " Step- 
ping Heavenward" is a Christian classic, 
has left us abundant evidence that she knew 
how to sweeten life, and make its flavor 
agreeable. To a young friend, this busy 
woman, and pastor's wife and help-meet 
said one day : "I was right sorry to lose 
your Saturday s call. It was a happy day 
to me, but I can conceive of no enjoyment 
of any sort that would put me out of sym- 
pathy with the trials of friends : 

" ' Old and young are bringing troubles, 
Great and small, for me to hear; 
I have often blessed my sorrows 
That drew others' grief so near.'' 

"I thought I was saying a very ordinary 
thing when I spoke of thanking God for His 
long years of discipline, but very likely life 
did not look to me at your age as it does 
now. I was rather startled the other day, 
to find it written in German, in my own 
hand, ' I cannot say the will is there/ re- 
ferring to a hymn which says, ' Der Will 
ist da, die Kraft ist klein, Doch wird dir 
nicht zuwider seyn/ I suppose there was 
some great struggle going on when this 



292 The Art of Being Agreeable. 

foolish heart said that, just as if God did not 
invariably do for us the very best that can 
be done. You speak of having your love to 
Jesus intensified by interviews with me. It 
can hardly be otherwise, when those meet 
together who love Him, and it is a rule that 
works both ways ; acts and reacts. I 
should be thankful if no human being could 
ever meet me, even in a chance way, and 
not go away clasping Him the closer, and 
if I could meet no one who did not so stir 
and move me. It is my constant prayer. I 
have such insatiable longings to know and 
love Him better that I go about hungering 
and thirsting for the fellowship of those who 
feel so too ; when I meet them I call them 
my ' benedictions/ Next best to being 
with Christ Himself, I love to be with those 
who have His spirit and are yearning for 
more of His likeness. You speak of putting 
1 deep and dark chasms between ' yourself 
and Christ. He lets us do this that we may 
learn our nothingness, our weakness, and 
turn, disgusted, from ourselves to Him. 
May I venture to assure you that the 
' chasms ' occur less and less frequently as 
one presses on, till finally they turn into 
'mountains of light.' Get and keep a will 
for God, and everything that will is ready 
for will come. This is about a tenth part of 
what I might say/' 

This strikes the note of a high and hal- 
lowed Christian courage ; one who dwells 



Some Cliarming Examples. 293 

near the Master in hallowed fellowship and 
communion may write thus. The finest 
and loveliest lessons for life are taught in 
Christ's school. Only those who sit at His 
feet may learn how to live divinely in a 
storm-tossed world. 

Dr. Prentiss spoke of the weeks just pre- 
ceding her death, when neither of them had 
a thought that it was near, as indescribably 
lovely and beautiful. They had gone to 
their summer home at Dorset, Vermont. 

" For four or five weeks after coming here 
she w r as very much occupied about the 
house, and seemed rather weary and care- 
worn. But the pressure was then over and 
she had leisure for her flowers and her 
painting, for going to the woods with the 
girls, and for taking her favorite drives with 
me. She spoke repeatedly of you and 
other friends. On the 23d of July I started 
for Monmouth Beach. The week preceding 
this little journey was one of the happiest 
of our married life. No words can tell how 
sweet and loving and bright — in a word, 
how just like herself — she was. The im- 
pression of that week accompanied me to 
the sea-side and continued with me during 
my whole stay there. As day after day I 
sat looking out upon the ocean, or walked 
alone up and down the shore, she was still 
in all my thoughts. The noise of the 
breakers, the boundless expanse of waters, 
the passing ships, going out and coming in, 



294 The Art of Being Agreeable. 

recalled similar scenes long ago on the 
coast of Maine, before and after our mar- 
riage — scenes with which her image was 
indissolubly blended. Then I met old 
friends and found new ones, who talked to 
me with grateful enthusiasm of 'Stepping 
Heavenward/ ' More Love to Thee, O 
Christ/ and other of her writings. In truth, 
my feelings about her, while I was at Mon- 
mouth Beach, were quite peculiar and ex- 
cite my wonder still. I scarcely know how 
to describe them. They were at times very 
intense, and, I had almost said, awe-struck, 
seemed bathed in a sweet Sabbath stillness, 
and to belong rather to the other world 
than to this of time and sense. How do 
you explain this ? Was my spirit, perhaps, 
touched in some mysterious way by the 
coming event? Certainly, had I been 
warned that she was so soon to leave me, I 
could hardly have passed those days of ab- 
sence in a mood better attuned to that in 
which I now think of her as forever at home 
with the Lord.'' 

The indispensable requisites to being a 
charming and agreeable person are tact, 
unselfishness and sympathy. One must 
have these. He who possesses the capac- 
ity of expressing active sympathy walks 
like an angel among his grateful fellow- 
men and scatters the roses of happiness 
along the sorrowful way of life from which 
none are exempt, while thousands of men 



Some Charming Examples. 295 

do not understand how to pluck them from 
the thorn-hedges which infest their way. If 
anywhere sympathy is related to love to 
such a degree that they may be confounded 
with each other, it is in the form of soft, 
gentle sympathy which never becomes 
weary, and never spares itself in searching 
out opportunities, and only works the more 
diligently and bestows the greater blessings, 
when the means with which it works are 
small and its circle is a narrow one. Its 
efforts are only increased when convinced 
that nothing it can do can lessen the danger 
which threatens a beloved human life, and 
that its efforts and strength are not adequate 
really to help them. 

There are such angels in the form of men, 
whose only occupation in life is to shed 
happiness about them unceasingly, by 
simple means which attract no notice, and 
when I have met such heavenly messengers, 
they have almost always been — old women, 
with the rare above-mentioned exceptions. 
Let me tell you of one. 

Near to the seventies and with a weak, 
delicate body, this lady has known how to 
retain a freshness and clearness of spirit and 
heart, and though by the world she was 
regarded as an old woman thirty years ago, 
she still remains young. She has brought 
up a numerous family in the most faithful and 
self-denying manner, and now not only her 
own grown-up children, but even her grand 



296 The Art of Being Agreeable. 

children and great-grand children seek her 
help and counsel in all difficult circum- 
stances. And she is also for a larger circle 
of beloved friends of every age and sex, the 
mild, friendly angel of comfort, the thought- 
ful counsellor, and the ready helper. She 
is the counsellor of each one, and all great 
and small troubles are confidently brought 
to her, for relief and consolation. For years 
this dear old matron was the trusted coun- 
sellor and adviser of young men at college, 
her own sons and grandsons and their 
comrades, and in her old age she yet retains 
their affectionate regard. 

Most of them have become happy fathers 
of families, and even now nothing more 
beautiful can be seen than the touching 
devotion and gratitude which they all retain 
for their former adopted mother. If any one 
of these professors or doctors who are 
scattered through the whole world, comes 
near to her place of residence, he willingly 
travels a whole night that he may spend a 
couple of hours with her. He enters with 
the old greeting, " Good-day, mamma ; " he 
takes her in his arms, and the beloved old 
eyes overflow with joy and pride that 
"Adolphus,'' "Francis," or " Henry," are 
so well, for these stately bearded gentlemen 
have always remained such to her. With- 
out ceremony he sits down to the table, and 
while eating relates what has happened in 
his official life, as well as in his family circle. 



Some Charming Examples. 297 

But at last he draws his chair nearer to her 
and begins : " Do you know, mamma, I 
come with a request/' And when the 
request has been discussed to the satisfac- 
tion of both parties, they recall again the 
pleasant old days. And as this " mamma/' 
the old name being still given, is in corre- 
spondence with all her adopted children, she 
can give information on every subject ; and 
more than once she hears them say, "Of 
course, I owe all that to you," or, "What 
would have become of me if you had not 
been there, mamma!" The conversation 
becomes more interesting, until at last the 
adopted son jumps up, exclaiming in dismay: 
11 Dear me, I shall lose my train." They all 
still remain in such relations as these to the 
old "mamma." Perhaps some one of them 
may smile when he reads these words, but 
they will admit it all, and will never forget 
what they owe to the quiet, simple old 
lady, or for how much they have to thank 
her. 

I can only remark, as often as I hear com- 
plaints in regard to the unrestrained behavior 
of the youth of our day, that the fault in 
great measure lies in this : There are no 
longer any old ladies. 

When we fail to find charming and inter- 
esting old women in our social assemblies, 
society is in a state of decadence indeed. 
But young women are now busy in making 
the old women of the future, and they have 



298 The Art of Being Agreeable. 

it in their power to mould them as they 
choose. 

In the " Life of the Rev. John McElhenny," 
an aged Presbyterian minister, long settled 
in West Virginia, we find a graceful picture 
of such a gentlewoman as presiding over a 
household, makes it a type of heaven. 

A grandchild tells of the manse with its 
ample living-room, wainscoted in cherry, 
and lighted by four large windows, an- 
swering to parlor, bedchamber and modern 
dining-room. Here the pastor and his wife 
had raised a family of five children, and 
there they now sat in the evening of a long 
and well-spent life, over which a lengthened 
twilight was yet to shed its glow. 

" Heart to heart they had passed through 
mingled scenes of joy and sorrow, and hand 
to hand they were to glide down the evening 
of life together ! 

"Children's children made their hearts 
young again, and before the old minister 
was called hence his hand had been laid 
in benediction upon a child of the fourth 
generation. And who can doubt that the 
blessing was fulfilled, when the lad's brief 
span was run, and the boy of promise went 
to meet him before God's throne ? 

" My grandmother was a notable house- 
keeper, and her hands bore the traces of a 
busy and energetic life. She was a small, 
brisk old woman, who looked well to the 
ways of her household, never eating the 



Some Charming Examples, 299 

bread of idleness, although she had several 
handmaids at her service. Her loaves of 
salt-risen bread, and horehound syrup were 
famous in the community, and she never 
failed to provide the one or the other for a 
sick neighbor, as the occasion might call 
for. She was a lavish provider and generous 
to excess, much to the detriment of the 
ministers slender purse, and there are many 
entries against his "lady" in those early 
accounts which have fallen into my hands ! 

"Well do I remember the evening meal, 
the well-filled board, the early prayers which 
followed, the setting away of the tea things, 
and the general righting up of the living- 
room ! The housemaids were called in, the 
candles lighted in the tall brass candlesticks, 
the chairs drawn up, the well-worn Bible 
placed on a small stand, and the venerable 
dame seated opposite to her husband, ready 
to correct him if he faltered in a word. 

"She knew the Bible by heart, and if, ow- 
ing to insufficient light or failing eyesight, 
he stumbled over a word, the good lady 
would correct him in an audible whisper, 
to the suppressed mirth of two small grand- 
daughters present. It was her custom to 
read the Bible through once a year, follow- 
ing the old-fashioned method of five chapters 
daily, and seven on Sundays. 

" Other than biblical lore she had at her 
tongue's end. She could recite "Cowper's 
Task/' from beginning to end, the ballad of 



3CO The Art of Being Agreeable. 

John Gilpin, and various Revolutionary 
ballads and patriotic odes." 

From our own circles of kindred, from 
our own friends and neighbors, we may cull 
beautiful examples, specimens worth preserv- 
ing in memory of the art of being agreeable 
to those whom we meet on the journey of 
life. 



The Very Best, 301 



THE VERY BEST. 

Assuredly there is a time when it is right 
not to be agreeable, even though there is 
never a time to be disagreeable. But, 
friends, we may well remember that there 
arise crises when the brave word must be 
spoken at any cost. Truth must not be 
sacrificed on the altar of a compromising 
insincerity. To the Christian heart, there 
must always stand foremost the desire to 
serve the Master, and when His Name is 
assailed, when the Lord's Day is assaulted, 
^whenever and wherever profanity or wicked- 
ness stalks before us, then must we gird on 
our armor, and be true to our colors, let 
the event be what it will. 

It may sometimes be cowardly to smile 
and be silent, when bold standing for the 
right is imperatively demanded. Every 
one's conscience must decide in matters of 
this sort. Few men, in our day, have said 
more forceful words for the daily life than 
the Rev. J. R. Miller, and he pithily tells us 
that : 

il There are degrees in virtue. All graces 
are not of equal value. Without the observ- 
ance of the place and proportion of each, a 



302 The Art of Being Agreeable. 

distorted and ill-formed character must result. 
That man would be esteemed a foolish 
farmer who would put as much time and 
care upon the cultivation of his family flower- 
garden as upon his wheat-field. Similarly, 
it is a grievous error for any young person 
to consider all virtues alike. Symmetry of 
character is not to be developed in this way. 
We are bidden to covet earnestly the best 
gifts ; and, naturally, a merely good gift is 
not to be given equal rank with the best 
gifts. 

" Patience, for instance, is a good virtue, an 
indispensable virtue ; but it is not supreme. 
Its nature is chiefly negative. To devote 
all one's attention to growing the grace of 
patience would in all likelihood insure a 
pleasant, but weak and unresisting character, 
submissive to wrongs that should not be 
borne, and inefficient in aggressive service. 

" Courage excels patience. Strong, fearless 
hearts, that will dare and do anything for 
righteousness' sake, are more lacking in the 
world than patient hearts. Christ was 
patient, but he was also brave. His match- 
less courage stands out strong and luminous 
in his life. Down the ages his example 
sends the mighty message, "Be strong in 
the Lord. " Without this spirit of unflinching 
and duty-doing courage, patience is inef- 
fective. Eli was patient to the degree of 
over-indulgence ; therefore the brave son of 
Hannah was called to fill his place." 



The Very Best. 303 

The desire to be popular may prove very 
misleading. It is well to be genial, fine of 
manner, lovable and beloved. It is well 
also to be honest, candid, responsible and 
noble. If possible combine these last 
qualities with a perfectly engaging and 
never-failing courtesy, and you come near 
arriving at the highest ideal type of man- 
hood and of womanhood. 

Says Bishop Brooks : 

" In certain lands, for certain holy cere- 
monies, they prepare the candles with most 
anxious care. The very bees which distil 
the wax are sacred. They range in gardens 
planted with sweet flowers for their use 
alone. The wax is gathered by consecrated 
hands ; and then the shaping of the candles 
is a holy task, performed in holy places, to 
the sound of hymns, and in the atmosphere 
of prayers, All this is done because the 
candles are to burn in the most lofty cere- 
monies on most sacred days. With what 
care must the man be made whose spirit is 
to be the candle of the Lord ! It is his spirit 
which God is to kindle with Himself. 
Therefore the spirit must be the precious 
part of him. The body must be valued only 
for the protection and the education which 
the soul may gain by it. And the power by 
which his spirit shall become a candle is 
obedience. Therefore obedience must be 
the struggle and desire of his life ; obe- 
dience, not hard and forced, but ready, 



304 The Art of Being Agreeable, 

loving, and spontaneous ; the obedience of 
the child to the father, of the candle to the 
flame ; the doing of duty not merely that 
the duty may be done, but that the soul in 
doing it may become capable of receiving 
and uttering God; the bearing of pain not 
merely because the pain must be borne, but 
that the bearing of it may make the soul able 
to burn with the divine fire which found it 
in the furnace ; the repentance of sin and 
acceptance of forgiveness, not merely that 
the soul may be saved from the fire of hell, 
but that it may be touched with the fire of 
heaven, and shine with the love of God, as 
the stars, forever. 

" Above all the pictures of life, — of what it 
means, of what may be made out of it, — 
there stands out this picture of a human 
spirit burning with the light of the God whom 
it obeys, and showing Him to other men. 
O, my young friends, the old men will tell 
you that the lower pictures of life and its 
purposes turn out to be cheats and mistakes. 
But this picture can never cheat the soul 
that tries to realize it. The man whose life 
is a struggle after such obedience, when at 
last his earthly task is over, may look 
forward from the borders of this life into the 
other, and humbly say, as his history of the 
life that is ended, and his prayer for the life 
that is to come, The words that Jesus said — 
' I have glorified Thee on the earth ; now, 
O Father, glorify Me with Thyself forever/ n 



The Very Best. 305 

The fine art of being agreeable shines out 
in our relations with organizations, with our 
church for example, and our benevolent 
society, and whenever we must act in 
concert with others. There is plenty of 
scope for the exercise of amicability, for 
yielding a little in non-essentials, for the 
piety which is sweet and Christ-like in these 
associations of men and women together. 

Happy will it be for us, if our behavior 
is always consistent, if we never forget 
courtesy, if we are able to control our looks, 
our speech, and our actions, and ever have 
with us as a sweet aroma, the spirit of 
the highest charity. 

'Twas in the night the manna fell 
That fed the host of Israel. 

Enough, for each day's fullest store 
And largest need, enough, no more. 

For wilful waste, for prideful show 
God sent not angel's food below. 

Still in our nights of deep distress 
The manna falls our hearts to bless. 

And, famished as we cry for bread, 
With heavenly food our lives are fed. 

And each day's need finds each day's store 
Enough, dear Lord, what ask we more ? 



20 



306 The Art of Being Agreeable, 



FINE MANNERS. 

I had occasion the other day to step into 
my kitchen to meet a man who had called 
to see whether I could engage him to attend 
to my furnace. I had no sooner stepped 
inside the door, than I recognized John as a 
man I had known some years ago ; an hon- 
est and hard-working mechanic who had 
married an excellent maid-of-all-work, who 
was also one of my humbler friends. As I 
went forward to meet John, he rose, ad- 
vanced with his hand extended, and his 
homely countenance was lighted by a smile 
of genuine good feeling. 

"It's yerself, mum," he said, " that's 
lookin' foine. Ye kapes your looks ! Foine 
and young ye do look ! " 

Now, the art of conveying a compliment 
in a spontaneous and sincere way belongs 
to the very essence of good breeding. How 
much better I telt than I would have done 
had John shown by a surly indifference that 
I and my appearance were nothing to him. 
To so demean yourself that you make others 
pleased with you, and with themselves too, 
is to touch the summit of courtier-like gen- 
tleness of breeding. 



Fine Manners. 307 

Mrs. John Sherwood, an authority, in 
t( Manners and Social Usages" tells us that 
" we do not want ail the decent drapery of 
life torn off ; we do not want to be told that 
we are full of defects ; we do not w T ish 
people to show us a latent antagonism ; and 
if we have in ourselves the elements of 
roughness, severity of judgment, a critical 
eye which sees defects rather than virtues, 
we are bound to study how to tone down 
that native, disagreeable temper — just as we 
are bound to try to break the icy formality 
of a reserved manner, and to cultivate a 
cordiality which we do not feel. Such a 
command over the shortcomings of our own 
natures is not insincerity, as we often find 
that the effort to make ourselves agreeable 
towards some one whom we dislike ends in 
leading us to like the offending person. We 
find that we have really been the offender, 
going about with a moral tape-measure 
graduated by ourselves, and measuring the 
opposite party with a serene conceit which 
has called itself principle or honor, or some 
high-sounding name, while it was really 
nothing but prejudice. 

"We should try to carry entertainment 
with us, and to seem entertained with our 
company. A friendly behavior often con- 
ciliates and pleases more than wit or bril- 
liancy ; and here we come back to those 
polished manners of the past, which were a 
perfect drapery, and therefore should be 



308 The Art of Being Agreeable. 

studied, and perhaps in a degree copied, by 
the awkward and the shy, who cannot de- 
pend upon themselves for inspirations of 
agreeability. Emerson says that "fashion 
is good-sense entertaining company ; it 
hates corners and sharp points of character ; 
hates quarrelsome, egotistical, solitary, and 
gloomy people ; hates whatever can inter- 
fere with total blending of parties, while it 
values all particularities as in the highest 
degree refreshing which can consist with 
good-fellowship. " 

" It does the awkward and the shy good 
to contemplate these words. It may not 
immediately help them to become graceful 
and self-possessed, but it will certainly have 
a very good effect in inducing them to try. 

"We find that the successful man of the 
world has studied the temper of the finest 
sword. He can bend easily, he is flexible, 
he is pliant, and yet he has not lost the 
bravery and power of his weapon. Men of 
the bar, for instance, have been at the 
trouble to construct a system of politeness, 
in which even an offensive self-estimation 
takes on the garb of humility. The har- 
mony is preserved, a trial goes on with an 
appearance of deference and respect, each 
to the other, highly, most highly, commend- 
able, and producing law r and order where 
otherwise we might find strife, hatred, and 
warfare. Although this may be a mimic 
humility, although the compliments may 



Fine Manners. 309 

be judged insincere, they are still the 
shadows of the very highest virtues. The 
man who is guarding his speech is ruling- 
his spirit, is keeping his temper, that fur- 
nace of all afflictions, and the lofty chambers^ 
of his brain are cool and full of fresh air. 

"A man who is by nature clownish, and 
w T ho has what he calls, a " noble sincerity," 
is very apt to do injustice to the polished 
man ; he should, however, remember that 
the "manner of a vulgar man has freedom 
without ease, and that the manner of a gen- 
tleman has ease without freedom." A man 
with an obliging, agreeable address may be 
just as sincere as if he had the noble art of 
treading on everybody's toes. The " putter- 
down-upon-system " man is quite as often 
urged by love of display as by a love of 
truth; he is ungenerous, combative, and 
ungenial ; he is the i ' bravo of society." 

" To some people a fine manner is the gift 
of nature. We see a young person enter a 
room, make himself charming, go through 
the transition period of boy to man, always 
graceful, and at man's estate aim to still 
possess that unconscious and flattering 
grace, that "most exquisite taste of polite- 
ness," which is a gift from the gods. He 
is exactly formed to please, this lucky creat- 
ure, and all this is done for him by nature. 
We are disposed to abuse Mother Nature 
when we think of this boy's heritage of joy 
compared with her step-son, to whom she 



3io The Art of Being Agreeable, 

has given the burning- blushes, the awk- 
ward step, the heavy self-consciousness, the 
uncourtly gait, the hesitating speech, and 
the bashful demeanor. 

" But nothing would be omitted by either 
parent or child to cure the boy if he had a 
twisted ankle, so nothing should be omitted 
that can cure the twist of shyness, and 
therefore a shy young person should not be 
expected to confront such a trial. 

1 ' And to those who have the bringing up of 
shy young persons we commend these ex- 
cellent words of Whately : 'There are many 
otherwise sensible people who seek to cure 
a young person of that very common com- 
plaint — shyness — by exhorting him not to 
be shy, telling him what an awkward ap- 
pearance it has, and that it prevents his 
doing himself justice, but they do not al- 
ways show him how he may improve him- 
self.'" 

To know what to do in a given situation 
adds very much to ease of deportment. 
Take the very familiar matter of intro- 
ducing one friend to another. Everybody 
does not remember that you must present 
the younger to the older person, the gentle- 
man to the lady, and speak the names of 
both with perfect distinctness. That is the 
whole secret of making a presentation, and 
it certainly is not difficult. In visiting one 
addresses one's hostess on arriving and bids 
her good-bye on leaving, and often at a 



Fine Manners. 311 

reception one can do little more. One is 
not to be pardoned who is afraid to be 
polite, or who fancies that boorish manners 
are the symbol of sincerity and that polish 
and refinement indicate affectation. 

I have lately read again, and with a 
pleasure so subtle and exquisite that I am 
fain to share it with my friends and readers, 
Tennyson's matchless Idyls of the King. 
You recall King Arthur, the blameless king, 
and his wonderful Round Table. 

In that fair order of my Table Round, 

A glorious company, the flower of men, 

To serve as model for the mighty world, 

And be the fair beginning of a time. 

I made them lay their hands in mine and swear 

To reverence the King, as if he were 

Their conscience, and their conscience as their King, 

To break the heathen and uphold the Christ, 

To ride abroad redressing human wrongs, 

To speak no slander, no, nor listen to it, 

To lead sweet lives in purest chastity, 

To love one maiden only, cleave to her, 

And worship her by years of noble deeds, 

Until they won her; for indeed I knew 

Of no more subtle master under heaven 

Than is the maiden passion for a maid, 

Not only to keep down the base in man, 

But teach high thought, and amiable words 

And courtliness, and the desire of fame, 

And love of truth, and all that makes a man. 

There are suggestions in that description for 
you and for me. 

In a family known to me the gentle older 
sister sometimes reproves the boisterous 



312 The Art of Being Agreeable. 

nursery troop by saying, " Hush-sh-sh, my 
children, your manners have not that repose 
which stamps the caste of Vere de Vere. " 
The words are really a spell to conjure with, 
and straightway Mamie and Eddie try to be 
quieter and lovelier. 

Said a lady not long since, l ' The true 
gentleman may wear broadcloth or fustian ; 
may carry a hod or a portfolio ; it matters 
not. Manners make the man." And the best 
of books gives us the golden rule to do as 
we would be done by, to love one another, 
the neighbor as one's self ; to emulate 
Christ, whose whole earthly career was one 
of service. 

Purity of speech, the avoidance of silly 
and senseless slang, and of course the omis- 
sion of everything which even trenches on 
the borders of profanity, will be regarded as 
imperative in those who would possess fine 
manners. 

Nor must we force our views too strenu- 
ously on those who differ from us. The rule 
of moderation in our statements applies to 
our social converse. In matters of principle 
let us be firm without ostentation. In mat- 
ters of transient importance, let us be for- 
bearing and disposed to yield. 

Politics are best left out of discussion at 
the dinner-table and the fireside unless peo- 
ple can fully control their tempers when 
engaged in a bout of argument with those on 
the opposite side. 



Fine Manners. 313 

Professor Ely in his treatise called " The 
Social Law of Service/' tells us of two sisters 
whose manners were founded on a basis of 
Christian altruism. "These good women 
illustrated the motto on the title-page of the 
book in which is recorded the story of their 
lives : ' The glory of all glories is the glory 
of self-sacrifice/ At first sacrifice with them 
found a basis in asceticism. It was thought 
well-pleasing to God that they should deny 
themselves without any human motive or 
aim external to themselves. This early 
period of their history finds expression in 
many passages in the book. Sarah Grimke 
writes : ' I went to a meeting, and it being 
a rainy day I took a large, handsome um- 
brella which I had accepted from brother 
Henry, accepted doubtfully, therefore wrong- 
fully, and have never felt quite easy to use 
it, which, however, I have done a few times. 
After I was in meeting I was much tried by 
a wandering mind, and every now and then 
the umbrella would come before me, so that 
I sat trying to wait on my God, and He 
showed me that I must not only give up 
this little thing, but return it to my brother/ 
After other reflections she adds, in a note : 
'This little sacrifice was made. I sent the 
umbrella with an affectionate note to brother, 
and believe it gave him no offence to have 
it returned, and sweet has been the recom- 
pence, even peace/ 

Even a very small bit of self-denial may 



314 The Art of Being Agreeable. 

be glorified if done from a noble motive. 
Says the Rev. Frederick W. Robertson : 

''Therefore come what may, hold fast 
to love. Though men should rend your 
heart, let them not embitter or harden it. 
We win by tenderness, we conquer by for- 
giveness. O! strive to enter into something 
of that large celestial charity w T hich is meek, 
enduring, unretaliating, and which even the 
overbearing world cannot withstand forever. 
Learn the new commandment of the Son of 
God. Not to love merely, but to love as He 
loved. Go forth in this spirit to your life 
duties ; go forth, children of the Cross, to 
carry everything before you, and win vic- 
tories for God by the conquering power of a 
love like this. " 

To bring the heavenly down to the earthly, 
the ideal to the practical, don't let us have 
too much interference with our rights and 
privileges from acquaintances. Elderly peo- 
ple need to be cautioned as to their moods 
and manners in this particular. A suggestive 
article in a religious paper lately printed 
this moral : 

"Edmund Burke when near the latter part 
of his life paid a tribute to the high and 
lovely character of his wife that is among 
the most beautiful and touching things in 
literature. In it he said, among other 
things, that her charm consisted not so much 
in the things she did as in the things she re- 
frained from doing. The elderly person who 



Fine Manners. 315 

would be a welcome companion or guest in 
the home, or with the young, must learn to 
refrain from doing and saying many things. 
The first great temptation to elderly people 
is to want to direct in little, unimportant 
things. No other characteristic — unless it 
be fault-finding — will so quickly cause the 
young to try to escape from the companion- 
ship of the old as this. Life with the young 
is a series of experiments, and one of the 
chief sources of enjoyment is the delightful 
uncertainty that attends many of them. So, 
unless young people are actually doing 
wrong, it is a great deal better to let them 
alone and let them find out things for them- 
selves. The elderly person — grandfather, 
grandmother, aunt or uncle, who proposes 
to become a constant mentor to young peo- 
ple, will quickly find himself disliked. This 
mentorship on the part of elderly people to- 
wards the young often takes the form of an 
inquisitiveness that is peculiarly exasperat- 
ing, especially when it is accompanied by a 
running comment or criticism on the an- 
swers given. ' Children, where are you go- 
ing? ''just as they are starting off on some 
expedition. 'To the woods ! Well it looks 
like rain and you would much better stay at 
home in the yard ; it's foolish nonsense to 
go and get your clothes wet and spoiled and, 
take your deaths of cold.' 'Mary, why do 
you wear that new dress every day ? If I 
were your mother I would make you save 



316 The Art of Being Agreeable. 

it for afternoons and church/ ' Willie, 
what are you whittling ? A boat ? It's all 
nonsense to make so many boats, and why 
don't you whittle in the barn and not on the 
porch?' The elderly person who indulges 
in such questioning and criticism will soon 
find that the children will instinctively 
'edge off' when he comes around. No 
affection can blossom and unfold in the at- 
mosphere of criticising inquisitiveness. The 
elderly person who can really play with 
children is possessed of a source of enjoy- 
ment second to none for the declining years 
of life. Its possession presupposes loving 
sympathy with children and consequently 
the power of making them happy, with its 
reflex influence of happiness conferred. 
With many elderly people this power of en- 
tering into the feelings of children — of being 
a child with them — is a natural gift. It has 
been a characteristic of some of the most 
eminent men and women. Lord Macaulay's 
favorite recreation, after a morning spent 
on his ponderous History, was to seek the 
house of his sister and play like a child with 
his little nephews and nieces. His entrance 
was a signal for uproarious joy and mirth. 
At once the sitting-room was the scene of 
all kinds of plays — the favorite one being 
'Menagerie/ The sofa was pushed across 
the corner ; Uncle Tom was lion or bear 
caged behind it and covered with news- 
papers. Or he was the wolf who talked to 



Fine Manners. 317 

little Red Riding Hood ; or the Mother 
Goose who made up rhymes for the little 
ones — rhymes that are positively unparal- 
leled in merit by later rhymes for children. 
For the sake of these romps he declined 
many an invitation to stately dinner-parties, 
and he was rewarded with an affection on 
the part of his nephews and nieces such as 
few parents are blessed with. The elderly 
person w r ho would bring this great blessing 
into his or her life may have to acquire the 
art of playing with children if it is not a na- 
tural gift. In order to do it he must become 
as a little child ; must see things from a 
child's point of view. A well-known essayist 
is said to be preparing an essay on ' The 
Uses of Grandparents. ' Doubtless this will 
be one of them. Parents alas ! too few have 
time to really play with the little ones ; to 
dress dolls and then play with them ; to 
make cats' cradles and wdiistles out of elder- 
berry stalks in the spring — (what bought 
whistle could ever compare w 7 ith the one 
that grandpa or uncle made ?) to lead the 
gentle pony or kind old horse around the 
yard with all the little ones on his back ; to- 
make the 'teeter' board and then 'teeter' 
on it. These are the recreations practised 
with the little ones, that make the heart 
young and win for the old the tender and 
enduring affection of childhood and youth." 
To all that has been said a word may be 
added about our voices too. We Americana 






318 The Art of Being Agreeable. 

are accused of having harsh nasal voices, of 
sacrificing sweetness and melody to a shrill 
tendency, to a scream or a shout. We need 
to cultivate full, round tones ; the sweet and 
silver voice is far more agreeable than the 
loud, harsh one. Temperament is revealed 
in the voice, sympathy vibrates in its chords. 
A brave woman bearing a great grief with 
outward calm may yet have "tears in her 
voice." Children, reproved in loud and un- 
modulated tones, themselves speak rudely. 
The voice indicates refinement or the re- 
verse. 

" ' I dislike to have Wilthorpe come to see 
me/ said a very shy woman ; ( I know my 
voice will squeak so.' With her Wilthorpe, 
who for some reason drove her into an 
agony of shyness, had the effect of making 
her talk in a high, unnatural strain, excess- 
ively fatiguing. 

"The presence of one's own family, who 
are naturally painfully sympathetic, has al- 
ways had upon the bashful and the shy a 
most evil effect. 

"'I can never plead a cause before my 
father.' 'Nor I before my son/ said two 
distinguished lawyers. 'If mamma is in 
the room, I shall never be able to get 
through my part/ said a young amateur 
musician/' 

Our manners are a part of our very nat- 
ures. They cannot be put off and on like 
our clothes. They begin in our cradles and 



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